


For These Scars

by RinoaDestiny



Category: King of Fighters
Genre: Angst and Drama, Aoi Kusanagi also cameos, Being Iori is suffering, Forbidden Love, Graphic Depictions of Illness, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Cheating, Kyo/Yuki exists but minor, Light BL, M/M, Secret Relationship, Shizuka Kusanagi and Yuki and Benimaru Nikaido cameo, Trauma, What if the clans were hardline and traditional?, some OCs, star-crossed lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-20
Updated: 2021-03-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 31,253
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27638896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RinoaDestiny/pseuds/RinoaDestiny
Summary: When their relationship is discovered, followed by devastating consequences, Kyo and Iori need to decide where they stand with each other and how to continue in an uncertain future. Not all fights can be won but that doesn't mean they'd go without a struggle.
Relationships: Kusanagi Kyou/Yagami Iori
Comments: 6
Kudos: 15





	1. Iori

**Author's Note:**

> _King of Fighters and all associated characters belong to SNK_
> 
> So, "Life Line" got written first. Then, because my brain cannot simply let me enjoy happy stuff for long, this story came out of the woodwork days afterwards (this was first posted on FFN in June 2019). It is not related to "Life Line," for "Anchor" which is, came out after this story. So, I've written a few Kyo/Iori fics already and in those, they tend to avoid scrutiny. However, in this one, reality ensues and oh, does it. Does it, ever. I also wanted to approach the clans from a more traditional and hardline stance, since I haven't seen that angle explored too often in Kyo/Iori fic. I got sad even hearing it unfold in my head. 
> 
> Chapters will flip between Iori's point-of-view and Kyo's. It is already complete, but I'll be uploading a chapter weekly, just as a heads-up.
> 
> There will be light BL in later chapters.

It was the harsh knock on his door at three in the afternoon which first alerted Iori to trouble. Most of the apartment tenants were either out to work – salarymen working long hours – or high-schoolers not yet home due to clubs or cram school. That usually meant quiet afternoons and most of the time, no one bothered him. His landlord, if needed, would simply drop him a note in his box. He made an effort to check it twice every week, since he did have bills to pay and junk mail to get rid of. Afternoons were usually his – he was playing his guitar right now, working on a new piece – and Kyo tended to stop by either earlier in the morning or around eight at night.

No one he knew would be knocking on his door at this time.

Placing his cherished guitar aside on its stand, he removed himself from the couch and approached the door. There was yet another knock – force behind the blow – and that made all his fighter's senses run high, pumping adrenaline into his blood.

Who was standing outside looking for him?

Then, he heard the voice. Someone had lost patience. Apparently, knew he was here.

"I know you're in there, Iori Yagami. Open the door."

What the hell was Saisyu Kusanagi doing here? Why was Kyo's old man…

His blood ran cold. Did he know? Was that why he was –

"If you don't open the door right now, I'm going to melt the hinges and come in anyway. Do not make me."

There was nothing friendly or conciliatory in the other man's tone. Iori knew, if he refused, that Saisyu would make good on his word and storm in, wreathed in flames. He wished to avoid a violent confrontation at all costs with Kyo's father. Their long-standing feud was dead, insofar as Iori was concerned. Being on extremely good terms with his former rival did that, as well as maintaining as secret a relationship with him as possible.

This caused his blood to turn to ice again. How did Saisyu Kusanagi know his address? It wasn't as if he told anyone about his and Kyo's clandestine meetings. Kyo, he knew, promised to be discreet. So Kyo wouldn't have said anything, given anything away…

"Open up the door, you Yagami scum."

He did, because right at that moment, the heat wave hit him through the door.

Saisyu had brought out the flames as promised and was about to destroy the entrance way. He'd never known Saisyu to be a violent, blunt, or unpleasant man but he was quickly amending his belief about that. When it came to their clans, the hatred still lived within the old guard and young as he was, Saisyu wasn't playing nice with him.

That was understandable. He wasn't exactly kind to Kyo before, either.

But he had no quarrel with the old man, so why…

The moment his door opened, Saisyu barreled through with enough force to throw him back. Quick on his feet, Iori realigned his balance, adjusting his stance but refusing to bring up his hands. He didn't want to fight the old man. The feud was dead. Over. If he fought and hurt Saisyu Kusanagi or accidentally killed him, Kyo as heir of the Kusanagi clan would be forced to take revenge. He knew how it worked, how it ran in their families' histories since the betrayal and divide. He had to maintain control of himself here. Play defensive. It ran counter to all his training, all his experience in the arena and outside of it.

But he refused – Orochi in his head be damned – to draw blood on the man across from him. Because it'd be his fault, no matter who started it.

The door closed behind Saisyu Kusanagi. It was the loudest click Iori ever heard in his life. The man stepped forward, brows drawn together and every line in his body was intent on some unknown action.

Iori stepped back, unconscious he'd done so. Something was wrong here.

What was it?

"How'd you find me?" he asked, his voice loud in the silence.

"I have my means," Saisyu Kusanagi responded and Iori noticed then that he was dressed in the full garb of his clan. Whereas Saisyu usually wore the green kimono with the sun crests and his _hakama_ , this time, he came clad in formal wear. Black _haori_ with crests on both sleeves and on both sides of the collar, the sun crest in embroidered gold. This wasn't just some casual visit – this was business and Saisyu meant for him to know whom and what he represented.

Kyo might've been the heir but Saisyu was the Kusanagi head patriarch.

One head patriarch against the heir of a once strong clan.

Iori resisted stepping back again. The hairs rose on the back of his neck. What was this about? Why the waiting game?

"Why are you here?"

"What are you doing with my son, Yagami?"

His gut curled tight, went cold. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Don't play the fool with me," Saisyu said and it was as if the temperature in the apartment dropped. "You think I don't know?"

How'd he find out? Through whom? What gave it away?

"Your sources misled you."

"They do not lie. You do. You are. Tell me, Yagami…what exactly are you doing with my son?"

"Nothing. I –"

Saisyu made a single gesture and Iori stepped back in time to avoid a wave of flame crackling in the spot where he once stood. Sweat dripped down his face, down his back, spotting his shirt. He clenched his fists. Stood his ground. Refused to fight.

"A liar as always. Just like your father. Just like the rest of your worthless clan."

He was going to ignore that, because it didn't matter. Not anymore.

"I have nothing to –"

"You do."

"Go ask your son if you want to know so much. Why are you here?"

"To hear it from you. Because I know, Yagami. I know what you're doing and what you've been hiding. You and my son both."

Iori made a choice, then. He couldn't let Kyo take the blame. To suffer his father's wrath. He had to deflect this away from Kyo, because... Because if he really cared for Kyo, he wouldn't allow Kyo to be maligned. They'd made their own decisions – conscious and completely mutual – but only they understood that. Saisyu Kusanagi standing before him, judgment in his eyes, wouldn't. In the end, he had to shoulder the blame.

"Does he know you're here?"

"What does that concern you?"

"He doesn't need to know. None of this…"

"I'll deal with my son in my own time."

"He did nothing wrong."

"Then, I'm not wasting any more time here."

He'd kept his sights on Saisyu, wary since the moment the man showed up outside his door and so Iori glimpsed the subtle movement of his foot. Throwing himself backward, using his leg as an anchor to keep his balance, he watched as Saisyu's hand arced right past him. A trail of bright orange flame followed, heat shimmering in the air. Still, he forced himself to remain defensive, nails digging hard into his palms. He didn't want to fight. Not at home. Not right now.

Not against Kyo's old man.

Saisyu moved again and Iori barely had time to blink, let alone process the speed as the other's arm arose, black sleeve swirling in his wake. It aimed for his face, for his eyes. Without hesitation, he threw his arm up to deflect the path of the attack. The blow that took him in the chest – the immediate follow-up – smashed hard against his sternum. Something snapped, pain ice-cold and numb and his strength sapped in that instant.

Heat and flame on the heels of that, Saisyu's fingertips gouging into his flesh and the agony was such that Iori couldn't even scream. It was too much at once and he had no strength left to resist, let alone manifest actual signs of pain.

Fire in his veins, burning and heat went through him like a vicious wave, undermining whatever reserves he had left. It was worse than the Riot of Blood, worse than Kyo's Orochinagi, worse than many things he'd suffered.

It left him hollow, burnt out but alive.

It was worse than death and he had no idea what it was.

When Saisyu was done, he was dropped unceremoniously to the floor, gravity pulling all of him down into a limp heap. His skin blistered where the internal heat flowed and through the pain, through the haze, he realized it was all going to scar. He'd been marked – the action was deliberate – and he knew, between the broken sternum and the burns that he needed to seek medical attention. Already, it was getting hard to breathe – fire in his lungs – and he didn't want to die.

"Why?"

Getting the word out was hard. Everything hurt.

Saisyu looked down at him, implacable. His voice was winter, was ice. "For what you did to my son."

"I…I didn't hurt him. I wouldn't…"

"You corrupted him!"

That hurt, even knowing what Saisyu thought of him; Iori flinched at his tone. The Kusanagi patriarch was stern, unforgiving – there was nothing to forgive; he hadn't done anything wrong – and the other man's voice didn't change as he continued talking.

"Like father, like son. Would it interest you to know this exact technique took your father out during our little rivalry? He never fought again after that."

_No…_

"To think I'd visit it upon you years later. You could have avoided it, if you didn't meddle."

"I didn't…"

"My son has a life and a future. None of which require you in it."

"But I…" Heat with every breath. Cold in his chest, a different kind of burning.

"I'm going to make this very clear, Iori Yagami. You only get this warning once. There will be no afters. No second chances."

Night coming down fast, swift and merciless like death over whatever joy he managed to grasp.

"If you approach him, if you even contact him, I'll bring the rest of the clan – without him – and give you such a death that there won't even be ashes left. Am I making myself perfectly clear?"

He'd thought his father terrifying. Saisyu Kusanagi would be in his nightmares for the rest of his life, if he didn't die tonight.

"But…Kyo…"

He never got further than that.

Saisyu's voice was steel, was cold controlled rage. "You're never seeing him again. I'll make sure of that."

A death – his happiness crushed, trampled – inexorable, relentless.

"This will be the last time _I_ see you, Iori Yagami. Do not make me come a second time."

The second time would be his last.

Iori closed his eyes, unable to muster any response. He…he didn't have the strength for it. Or the words for it. He was also very close to the edge of losing control…of…

The door opened. Closed.

Saisyu Kusanagi had left. Hadn't said anything. He'd done his deed, said his words, and left him for dead on the floor of his own apartment. Because his life was nothing to him. Would mean nothing to _him_ without Kyo.

He wanted to cry. Instead, he fumbled for his phone, unable to feel his hands past the lingering burning pain. Forced his consciousness to last long enough to call for the ambulance. Darkness crashed down after, light fading until all sensation passed.


	2. Kyo

"Come on, Yagami. Pick up."

He was supposed to meet Iori tonight at his place – eight o' clock as usual – but he'd made it a habit to call and check just in case. Yagami tended to be preoccupied sometimes with an active band schedule or he just wanted to enjoy his afternoons. So Kyo usually called at five, which gave them at least a three hour window should plans change. That had worked for the last six months and Iori appreciated the gesture, since he had more to do with his time. But that also meant picking up calls and Iori tended to be fastidious about that. The other man had subtle quirks – only revealed when they got close – and Yagami's iron-clad punctuality was one of them.

So it didn't make sense when his texts weren't returned within the hour.

Or his calls left hanging, unanswered.

Kyo frowned, looking down at his phone. It was a little past six and still nothing.

Was Yagami sick? Called away on business? Or just asleep?

He had a spare key to Yagami's apartment, given to him within the first month but he didn't use it often. Whatever hours Yagami set, he respected. The last thing he needed to do was barge in, intruding on a quiet hour. Iori had more patience for him nowadays, but even he knew his limits and how tight a hold the other man kept over his temper. Until he got to know Yagami, he didn't believe the other had self-control.

That was one of the many things he'd been proven wrong about.

Iori also really did hate violence. In the six months they'd been together – early mornings and late nights shrouded in secrecy – the other maintained a calm demeanor. This was broken occasionally by Orochi's intrusion into Iori's mind, which caused the other a fair amount of agitation. Supposedly, if he understood it correctly, the god demanded to know why his follower – Yagami had scoffed at that and loudly – was in bed with the enemy and not murdering him where he lay. Those were the only times Yagami got violent and from his observation, Iori hated them all the more for disturbing his peace.

It was one of the other nuances about the man he got to know as time went on.

Looking back now, it was hard to believe they were once rivals, hatred keen and unyielding. Until something happened between them – Yagami coming to terms with his obsession and how hatred gave way to genuine affection (difficult to comprehend at first) – and how that altered everything. His amusement at his former rival's diehard attitude towards him, his method of teasing the other man at every meaningless death threat, and even that changed. Somehow. He wasn't sure when the changes affected them both, but they couldn't go back after that.

Kyo doubted their ancestors saw this in their clans' futures. It just didn't seem possible.

It was fifteen after six now and his phone was silent.

No return calls. No texts back. Nothing.

He had dinner with his family first. After that, he'd drop by Yagami's place, see what was up. Because this was strange. Iori didn't break routine, didn't just go off the map. He just wanted to make sure he was okay.

But that came after. Eight o' clock was his usual time. Going to eat with his family was also routine and part of the maintenance of secrecy. Because if he broke routine, that would appear odd and he didn't need anyone cluing in on what he did during his unstructured time. During his late evenings or his early morning hours.

Kyo pocketed his phone, put his helmet on, revved up his bike, and took off towards home.

* * *

Dinner was uneventful, though his mom cooked up his favorites and his dad imbibed a bit of _sake_. Kyo, not much of a drinker, avoided the alcohol and focused on finishing his soup, rice, pickled vegetables, and fish. He tried not to appear hurried – that'd give him away – but his mind constantly went back to the unanswered calls and texts. The spare key was in his room, kept secreted away (he didn't want anyone to find it), and he needed to get it before leaving.

Yagami lived half an hour away, reachable by train. Even if he left a bit late, he didn't think Iori would mind. Kyo was more lax with punctuality – except for during the tournaments – and the other man really didn't seem to mind at nighttime. Not when nighttime meant settling down, quiet words exchanged – sometimes laughter and what passed for humor when it came to Yagami's dry wit – and then physical actions besides fighting (although he'd quipped before that that passed as foreplay). Yagami had given him a look, guffawed, and then quipped back to stop being ironic or poetic. Or whatever the hell he was trying to say.

They didn't say much afterwards, anyway.

Kyo kept his face neutral. When his mind ran down memories like these, it was easy to betray himself unknowingly. He had an estimate of the time – was finishing his meal – and if he left soon, he'd be able to catch the next train out to Yagami's place.

He hoped he was okay. Just asleep or working on a piece, which often needed concentration.

He refrained from checking his phone. That, too, would give him away.

When the time rolled to twenty after seven, Kyo placed his chopsticks down on his rice bowl, complimented his mother for the excellent meal, and prepared to head to his room. His mind was already on route to Iori's apartment, to check in and see how things were going.

His dad's voice broke into his thoughts. "Kyo, son…you heading somewhere?"

"Yeah. Got some event to go to."

"I see. I need to talk to you for a bit. Mind if you join me?"

Kyo hesitated but recovered quickly. "Sure." He hoped this discussion wouldn't take long. If he missed this train, the next one wouldn't arrive until twenty minutes later. He didn't want to be that late.

"Let's leave your mother in peace and quiet. Come on – let's head to my study."

His dad's study was in the left wing of their traditional compound, far from the center and therefore, perfect for matters such as this. Kyo followed, walking down corridors he knew from memory – _shoji_ running down the hall and _tatami_ in each room – until they reached the study. It smelled pleasantly of ink and paper, of the red paste used for their name stamps and his dad turned on the small desk lamp, green glass aglow, for night was soon to fall.

They were two weeks into April and the days were still short.

"Sit down, son."

Huh. So this was going to be a long conversation, then? Kyo wondered what his dad wanted to talk about. He couldn't think of anything particularly urgent or important. He sat down, puzzled.

"So what's this event you're going to? I know you usually give details in advance, just in case something happens."

Was that what this was about? "There's a concert new in town. The latest rock band."

"And they're playing tonight?"

"Yeah." He was really confused here. Why was this important? Why was his dad even asking this? It seemed trivial.

"Are you taking Yuki with you? A date, perhaps?"

"Huh?" That was usually a question his mom would ask, not his dad. Something was off here but he couldn't figure out what. "Yuki doesn't like rock music, Dad."

"So you're going alone?"

"Yeah." What was going on here?

"No one else?"

"What are you getting at, Dad?"

"You sure you're not meeting someone else there? Someone you don't want me to know about?"

Oh shit, what? What was his dad implying? That sounded dangerously close to… "What are you talking about, Dad?"

"Oh, Kyo, son…I expected better from you."

"What?"

"I know, son. About you and that Yagami boy. You weren't going to a concert tonight, were you? You were planning on meeting him."

Shock wasn't even the appropriate word to describe the sudden emotion he felt. Ripped free from his moorings, more like. Horror at the realization that his dad knew – how did he know? – and he was speechless for a minute, unable to formulate words to make any coherent response. He was stunned, as if felled by an executioner's hammer. Like a sacrifice at some ancient altar, the stench of blood and smoke in the air.

"I've known for a while, son. And I'm very disappointed."

Chills went down his back hearing that. Saisyu was rarely disappointed but when he was…

"Dad –"

"How long has this been going on, Kyo?"

"Dad, it's not –"

"The truth, Kyo. You wouldn't lie to me, would you? Although you already did, it seems. I taught you better than that."

"Dad, you need to listen to me. It's not –"

"Your mother doesn't know. Yuki doesn't know. How could I break the news to her – that her boyfriend – _my son_ – is fooling around behind her back with a boy. And not just any boy – your rival, our clan's enemy, someone I wouldn't trust with my _life_. A fact you seem to have conveniently forgotten."

"He's not…he's not the enemy anymore, Dad!"

"They never change. You have forgotten that too as well."

His father's study was suddenly constricting – too small, the walls closing in fast – and Kyo struggled to keep himself above the dangerous undercurrents of this discussion. His dad knew – _how?_ – and that meant Yagami was…could be…

A scary thought occurred to him. "Dad, have you done anything to him?"

"Why would he concern me? It's you I'm worried about."

The lack of response. The unanswered calls and texts. Was he simply paranoid?

"Kyo…your irresponsibility unfortunately requires me to take some desperate measures. You clearly cannot be counted on to fulfill your obligations to the clan."

What the hell did that mean?

"From today, you cannot leave the house unless you are accompanied by another member of the clan. Someone we all trust. Someone who cannot be subverted."

"I'm not a child –"

"You certainly are not a man if this is the action you take!" His father shot back, the words sharp and cutting. "Until you lose this foolishness about that boy –"

"I'm not a child anymore! I do not have to –"

"Yes, you do. Sit down, Kyo. Sit down and listen, because I'm not done yet."

Somehow, he'd risen to his feet during that last bit of shouting and as his father's words sank in, Kyo realized something was coming to an end. It was lingering over the horizon, like the edge of a blade against his neck, and as he sat down, emotions swirling in complete turmoil, he knew what it was. His freedom, his relationship with Yagami, and Yagami…

The other man was happy now. What would this –

"I need the keys to your motorcycle. Anything that would allow you access to transportation. You clearly cannot be trusted."

His own father saying this to him…

"Dad…"

"Your keys, Kyo. I need your phone, too."

"That's not –"

"You're under my roof and you will follow my rules. You can either be acquiescent and filial or I'll have to call the clan's rules into effect. Which would you rather follow, Kyo? Don't make it difficult for me, son."

Like hell he was giving up the keys or his phone. Or anything that was – _is_ – his, for that matter. He was the heir – could and would make his own decisions. "I'm not giving you anything, Dad."

"Be very careful, Kyo."

"You cannot do this."

"I can and I will. The clan's interests come first. You know that, or you did, until you decided to lose your head over that Yagami boy –"

"Will you stop calling him that?"

"He's the enemy, Kyo. Always has been and always will. No matter how much you deceive yourself."

"You don't even know him!"

"Why would I need to?"

"This is pointless!" he growled, rising to his feet again. "I don't need to listen to this!"

"Kyo, son…"

"Don't 'son' me! I'm leaving."

He would have, too, if it wasn't for the fact that he was suddenly aware of multiple presences outside his father's study. When they'd walked in here, they'd been alone. No one else had accompanied them and the hallways had been empty. Had been. They must've come in and stood waiting outside during their conversation, which by now was very heated. Kyo was furious – _what did his dad know about Yagami anyway?_ – and this intrusion by other members of the clan only pissed him off even more.

"You had –"

"I told you, son. You cannot be trusted. Now will you go willingly or do we have to take extreme measures? I don't want to fight you, son but I will if I have to."

Kyo seethed. He clenched his fists, reddening.

"So this is how you do things, huh? Underhanded like some –"

"I wouldn't finish that sentence if I were you, Kyo."

"What are you waiting for?" he barked, directing his voice – rage and hostility honed and keen like a sword edge – to those standing outside. "You're here to take me, aren't you? Do it already!" He slammed the _shoji_ door open and stepped out – back straight, chest forward, and eyes straight ahead, glaring.

If he was to be a prisoner confined within his own home, so be it for now. But he wasn't going to let it happen by cowering. By submitting to his father without any say of his own.

He'd play along for now. For now.

He was still going to leave somehow and find Yagami.

Like hell his father was going to separate them. Like hell.


	3. Iori

When he finally surfaced back into light and consciousness, there was a tube in his throat, an IV drip in his arm, a nurse changing his dressings, and a doctor standing nearby. He was weak and sore, still burning hot within and the sudden brightness hurt his eyes. He closed them again and felt the nurse's hand soft and cool against his forehead. Was he feverish? His body temperature had never been this high and…

Next to him, there was a steady beeping, precise and measured.

Murmuring around him, the coolness leaving his skin, and there were words exchanged which he couldn't make out. He kept his eyes closed – was exhausted, could drift off if given another minute to himself.

A fiddling sound. Metal and plastic. Something being switched. The same soft hand against his arm, checking the cold steel in his vein. A minor adjustment made and then the hand let go, gentle and reassuring.

The steady beeping lulled him to sleep, back into utter whiteness.

* * *

The second time he came to, his surroundings were clearer. Starker. He was in a single room, in an elevated bed and the beeping was from the heart monitor to his left. He still wasn't able to breathe on his own – he was still intubated – and nurses came and left. Some changed his dressings. Some checked his temperature – still high, still borderline feverish – and one of them switched his IV fluid bag before it ran empty. He soon gestured – his hands ached at the wrists – for paper and pen, since he couldn't communicate the usual way without discomfort.

They brought him what he asked for. The doctor also came.

He wrote; his hand shaky, characters scrawling on the smooth white page.

_Where am I?_

"You're in a hospital, Yagami-san," the young doctor said. He wore black-rimmed glasses and couldn't have been but a few years older than him. Doctor Yamashita, he read on the man's official name tag, which was pinned to the coat he wore. His head ached, throbbed behind his eyes. He closed them briefly, tried to suppress the sudden dizziness that overtook him.

The beeping to his left quickened – a swifter pace.

"Take it easy. You've been here a few days."

Opening his eyes again, he wrote on the pad, characters jagged and ugly: _How long?_

"You've been here four days. The previous hospital had to transfer you."

_Why?_

"You needed treatment for burns, Yagami-san. Specialization was required for that."

_The other hospital? What for?_

"According to your medical record, immediate emergency surgery. Your sternum was cracked and it affected your heart as well. Some minor tearing along the upper ribs where they joined the sternum. They had to stabilize you before sending you here. You almost died that night, Yagami-san. At one point, you stopped breathing. When they brought you back, they immediately sent you here. The burns were affecting your treatment, you see."

_How?_

The doctor looked down at his clipboard, at the notes on it. "Dehydration. Your lungs were filling with fluid – required draining but first we had to locate the cause of injury. Yagami-san, you have scarring in your lungs. We were also considering skin grafts for your other burns but…"

_What? What is it?_

"You don't have enough to enable that, unless we get it cultured and that takes time."

He almost dropped the pen, as comprehension gave way to shock.

"Except for your face, neck, hands, and feet, the rest of your body suffered second and third degree burns. We have it under control now but we monitored you for infection. Dehydration was something we took care of immediately."

He glanced at the IV fluid bag hanging from its steel stand and then followed its extension to the IV drip in his arm. Noticed for the first time the bandages wrapped around his arms and how they continued under his hospital gown's sleeves. He did have to put the pen down, then, because his hand started shaking. The beeping on his left picked up and it was as if his heart hammered against the confines of his chest, desperate to get out.

"Yagami-san, calm down."

He shut his eyes. Refused to open them.

His sternum. His burns. Bits and pieces began coming back – his mind resisting, not wanting to know – and then those minute memories turned to flood. Surged at him in a rush, brutal and unstoppable. The heat within shot up, overwhelmed him. He gasped and that hurt with the tube in his throat. But that didn't ache – didn't agonize him half so much as he _remembered_ and how remembering again tore his world asunder.

The knock at his door.

Saisyu Kusanagi demanding answers. Answers he didn't have to give.

His sternum breaking, ice-cold pain that stole his breath, robbed his strength. How his arm fell, how he would've fallen if not for Saisyu holding him upright, driving channeled heat through him like molten flame.

How he wanted to scream but couldn't. How it kept going on and on until it was done. Over.

Saisyu standing over him, above him, icy contempt and hatred plain on his face.

What he was told. How it was told to him.

The door closing. His world broken. His world still breaking.

He clenched his hands together, holding fast as though it kept him from falling apart. The doctor was speaking – he could hear sound – but he no longer knew the words. The only words that resounded were Saisyu's and each one echoed in his head like death knells.

He'd been burnt with fire but those words were scars upon his heart now.

He didn't know how to proceed from here, how to continue with those words…with…

He wanted to scream, to cry but couldn't. How was he to…how to even express…

Voices near him now. Soothing tones to offer comfort. There was no comfort here. There had been, but it'd been taken away from him and…

There was nothing he could do. Nothing at all.

Heat surged again – scalding, a scorching within – and then darkness claimed him, merciful once more.

* * *

His temperature refused to fall. Continued to hover around that threshold of fever, keeping him flushed and uncomfortable. He began to realize with a slow growing horror what had been done to him. Whatever technique Saisyu used – he also became aware that he'd never faced the other man before all this – turned his own body against him, created within him a perpetual furnace. An undying heat that circulated and peaked in intervals. It wasn't going away and probably never would. A fitting and vicious retribution to someone from the Yagami clan – the Kusanagi flame always punishing, always devouring, always burning. He turned his head, felt sweat roll down into his hair, dampening it and then seeping into the pillow beneath him.

He'd been burned before but this…

This was…

His mouth was dry, his eyes were hot, his skin stretched too tight on his face – spared because he wasn't permitted a quick end – and the doctor said…

He shut that thought down before it arose. Before it became painful to dwell upon.

The nurse watching him stood up, felt his forehead – smoothing his hair aside – and murmured something soft and gentle. He thought she said, "It's okay. It's okay," but the air seemed to shimmer around him, darkness encroaching again with fatigue and his hearing zoned out, sounds becoming mere echoes in the stillness…

* * *

He asked for his belongings, if he had any with him when he was taken in. The nurse assigned to his floor brought over the few things he had. It wasn't much. His wallet. His keys. His phone. He fumbled with it, opening it with trembling fingers and then froze. Stared in disbelief, in agony, with emotions he couldn't pin down.

Kyo had called. Had texted. At five, like he usually did. Then at five thirty and then every ten minutes after that. Voice messages in his voice mailbox. Text messages asking if he was all right. To get back to him. The messages didn't stop until six and with each one, Kyo sounded more worried.

Five. Saisyu had…wasn't it at three or a little after?

At five, he was…he wasn't conscious. Had passed out, was evidently in good hands afterwards. Had been fighting for his life…had died or almost did, according to the doctor. Had nearly succumbed to his injuries.

Kyo had called. Had texted. And he…

Saisyu's words were a brutal blow, the sharp recall stirring terror deep within. If he called, if he texted back…

_If you approach him, if you even contact him, I'll bring the rest of the clan – without him – and give you such a death that there won't even be ashes left._

He wasn't afraid of death itself. Knew he was going to die young. It was how, though, that made the difference. Dying from the curse was expected, inevitable. He'd made his peace with it a while back. Didn't know how it'd come but it wasn't like he could stop it. But this…what Saisyu threatened, would carry out if he offended?

To be obliterated like that…

He shuddered. Found himself gripping his phone tight, knuckles white.

The bandages starting from his wrist and going up…the scarring…Kyo called and he…he couldn't…

He was crying after all, silent tears falling and he allowed it, only because he hurt so much. Wept, with only the sounds of his wounded heart coming from the monitor to keep him company.


	4. Kyo

To say he was pissed off was an understatement. Kyo roared and he rarely roared.

"What the hell do you mean by that?" His tone was unfilial to the extreme, his volume raised higher than it should have been, and by all means, he shouldn't be towering over his father but the latest regulations were going too far, dammit! "What do you mean I can't see my friends?"

"Your friends can come over to see you. You cannot –"

"Then what's that bullshit about the clan chaperone? Was that all false?"

"If you need to go out for certain functions, then that holds." His father weathered his yelling as though it was nothing. He rarely saw this side of Saisyu – usually, the other preferred sleeping late and doing nothing much at all (leaving most of it to his mom) – but seeing him like this brought it home to him that Saisyu was the head patriarch. While he deigned to use his authority most times, apparently, his indiscretions with Yagami now caused this side of his father to show.

It was highly upsetting and irritating and downright enraging.

Kyo let his temper fly and didn't care that it was disgraceful for him to act this way.

He was an adult. Was twenty three. His own affairs were his business, not his father's. Finding out he pried into it – he still didn't know how or what gave it away – and going from shock to horror and then full-blown fury seemed like reasonable reactions. Because the _hell_? What did he care?

And now he couldn't see his friends? Was the old man really that worried about…?

"So if Benimaru and Goro want to see me –"

"They can come over. I've thought this through, Kyo. They know the other contestants. That includes that boy, correct?"

"Yeah. What of it?"

"I can't trust that you wouldn't use that as an excuse to find him. I do not control your friends."

"But you can control them if they come here?"

"Exactly. Now will you sit down and behave? This is most unlike you, Kyo."

Unlike him only because the old man treaded where he shouldn't have. Ignoring his father's directive, Kyo remained standing, fists clenched tight. Clansmen stood outside his father's study – reinforcements in case this got ugly – and he knew they remembered every word. Probably had someone writing it down. Blackmail material? Or just to throw his words back in his face should they need to as some form of control?

"And Yuki? What about her?"

"You still think about her? Consider her? I would've thought –"

"Do _not_ bring that up. I'm asking you what would happen if I wanted to –"

"Considering she'll be your future wife, considerations will be different. We do not want to make her think twice about marrying into the clan, correct?"

"You trust her." That wasn't a question. He needed to know where his father stood on this.

"Why shouldn't I? She, out of all your friends and acquaintances, would be least likely to encourage your behavior in _that_ regard. She does not know, son. Consider that a kindness from me."

"Kindness," he snarled, hearing an echo of Yagami's tone from long ago in his voice. "And me? What about me? Is _this_ kindness?"

"Once you realize the full import of your actions and seek to make amends, we can discuss about relaxing these rules. Until then, son, you will continue to be watched. The clan relies on you – on what you bring to its future – but we cannot do that if you are still immature."

In other words, what he and Yuki would bring to its future. A child. The next heir.

Impossible if he and Yagami were still entangled, their lives as one.

"Anything else?" he snapped. He didn't like surprises and Saisyu springing this one floored him, made him see red. It was the reason why he stormed into the old man's study in the first place, demanding answers. He only found out today – a week into what boiled down to clan-imposed house arrest – that further limitations had been made to his freedoms.

He had every right to be angry. To be yelling, to demand to be heard.

"Not at this time. Don't test me, son. It'd go easier for you."

"Yeah. I'm sure it will."

Then, he left, one of the clansmen trailing him, close as a shadow. One of the impositions in his life now. He entered his room and slammed the door shut, right in the clansman's face. It made him feel better but not by much.

* * *

Yagami hadn't gotten back to him at all. He sent out another barrage of follow-up texts and left another voice message. It'd been days since he last contacted him and it was as if the other man had disappeared entirely. He wasn't sure where he was, what had happened, and it wasn't as if he could just up and leave to find out. His clan's restrictions barred that path to him – not that he wasn't seeking a way around it. Some loophole.

His father trusted Yuki but she didn't know. If he told her…

Yuki had been there, had been waiting, when he came back years later after 1997. He'd changed by then, his experience with NESTS embittering him to a certain degree and she'd been there. Had been his comfort and support in the days that followed. If he were to tell her what happened between him and Yagami, how their hatred transformed into something else…

He didn't want to hurt her. She was too good for that – to get that from him.

He wondered about his mother. Shizuka was anything but her namesake – she certainly wasn't quiet – and he expected her to drop by and ask him what was going on. Because Shizuka Kusanagi didn't just sit around like some good housewife without knowing what was occurring within the household. With his imprisonment (that was how he chose to see it) and Saisyu being unreasonable, it wasn't as if she'd be unaware of the sudden tensions between father and son. If she wasn't here, yet…

His mother was likely gathering information. Had her own sources.

She would show up. Ask him what was going on. And when she did, he'd tell her and see what she thought. Kusanagi clan though she might be, his mother was more level-headed, calmer, able to see the bigger picture. Able to see past her prejudices. If anyone would hear him out – see where he was coming from regarding Yagami – it'd be her.

He just needed it to happen soon. Not being able to go anywhere was driving him crazy.

Later that night, when the household was asleep – all lights off (someone probably outside his door) – he set his phone to 'record' and condensed all his concerns and worries in it. It took a few tries, since he wanted to make sure it captured his face and finally on the fourth attempt, he got a decently clear video. This, he sent to Yagami. If the other man was still around, was still interested in him even – he couldn't explain the sudden absence – he hoped this would let him know. Let him know that he, Kyo Kusanagi, was still invested in their relationship.

He just needed a response, no matter how brief.

He was willing to wait. To keep trying until he heard back from Iori.

Until then, he was up to his own devices. His own ruses to slip this chain, this yoke around his neck. Because he wanted out. As soon as possible.

He left another text and this one to a familiar friend.

It wasn't much but it was a start.

_Beni, this is Kyo. Give me a call when you have time._


	5. Iori

Kyo had left him more messages. Several texts, all asking where he was, was he all right, and to please get back to him if he was able. With each message he saw, with each message he read and re-read (knives to the soul), Iori despaired further and further. He had to put his phone aside and get ahold of himself, because Kyo's concern (so much of it) hurt and he couldn't let himself…he didn't want to cry again. He had other issues at hand to deal with – also as painful – and he didn't have enough energy to expend on both physical and emotional matters.

It was the video that nearly undid him – magnified the raw anguish he now carried.

He kept his phone far away after that. The hurt was too great.

Doctor Yamashita ordered more blood tests and X-rays done and monitored his condition as the days went by. His sternum would take about four months to heal – it wasn't a clean break; had bone fragments that were placed and realigned during surgery – and on the matter of his burns, the young doctor was more delicate in his phrasing. Certain areas were burned more badly, would certainly need skin grafts. Did he want them to start the process? Start getting the cells ready for cultivation in the labs so that within the next few months, they could start his treatment?

He had no choice, really. Some of the burns were bad. He saw them.

He gave them the go-ahead and then lay in bed that night, mind completely empty. It was the only way to keep sane. His whole world was breaking – every little part becoming undone – and there was no one there to comfort him, to be by his side.

He tried not to think about Kyo. Didn't think he succeeded.

Saisyu's warning followed him even into his dreams and sometimes he awoke, panicked, sure he was about to be incinerated just for existing.

More tests were done and more treatments were suggested. The burns affected his joints – backs of his knees, his shoulders where the sockets were, his wrists, his ankles – and the doctor recommended therapeutic rehab. He'd listened in disbelief, unable to comprehend that he'd have to go that far to regain a semblance of himself. For that was what it was – a mere semblance. He was never going back to what he was before – would never be a fighter in his prime again.

He was only twenty four and his best days were done. Over.

Saisyu took all that away from him, just like what had been done to his old man.

On top of that, his lungs were so affected by the circulating heat that even after he was taken off the tube, breathing was strained. Medication was given. Would be prescribed once the hospital deemed him healthy enough to leave. There would be several prescriptions written, which he would have to fill immediately. Enough painkillers to deaden the worst of it and one so that he could continue breathing without complications.

His body temperature never changed. The nurses cooled him down, gave him sponge baths and dampened his forehead but the vicious heat continued to cycle, continued to spike at the worst times. He'd been overwhelmed, had slipped into fevers which left him weaker than before. Rebounding was always harder and Doctor Yamashita had the nurses on a constant scheduled watch, just in case something went wrong.

He'd recovered but his heart had suffered and this, too, was detrimental to his final outcome. The nurses cared for him – some offering quiet encouragement – with the doctor checking his stats and improving his treatments. Days spilled over into weeks and by the time he underwent what felt like the millionth blood test, Iori wanted to leave.

He'd never liked hospitals. Never did, never would've gone to one if things weren't serious.

But the two hospitals and this one in particular saved his life. Continued doing so.

So he waited. Waited and remained, listening to the sounds of his phone going off, knowing the source of those calls, those texts. In moments of weakness, he reclaimed his phone, would open up the videos just to look upon Kyo's face. He knew he had changed – was no longer the same – but the other looked the same, if only more fretful, more concerned.

Kyo's old man had found out. Was Kyo doing okay?

He always wanted to ask but he never let his fingers wander onto the digital keyboard, to punch in the characters that would form that question.

Contact meant death and he wasn't ready to die. He'd only been fighting for the last few weeks not to.

So he'd let his fingers slide away from the keyboard, knowing that while he did so, he would remain alive. That Saisyu wouldn't come after him, because he hadn't run afoul of the warning. Knowing that doing so was denying himself the one person he could truly say he loved.

It hurt. It hurt him badly, admitting this to himself.

But there was nothing he could do.

Nothing at all.

* * *

When he finally left the hospital – close to three weeks gone – the sky was leaden and overcast, clouds rolling overhead heavy with rain. It was cooler and with his feverish state, he welcomed it. He was still burning inside, still off-balance and somewhat dizzy, so when the first raindrops fell, Iori took a carefully-drawn breath and craned his neck upward to look at the sky. After being indoors and bedridden for so long, the change of scenery and fresh air was pleasant. Soothing, even. He let the rain wash over him, let it run into his hair and down his face.

It felt good. Really good.

He was tired, though. Had never stopped feeling this way since the attack. It was part of his life now, inseparable. He also found his movement hampered, the burns affecting his mobility. Opening his wallet, counting the _yen_ inside – unused, untouched – he made a decision. This being a hospital, he could hail a taxi at the front entrance and let it take him somewhere safe. Somewhere to sleep, to stop thinking about things for just a few hours.

Usually, home was shelter. Was safety.

But after Saisyu's direct assault upon his life in his own apartment, he no longer felt safe there anymore. Didn't want to go back and see where he'd fallen, where his life began going wrong. So when the taxi came, he gingerly climbed in – aware his sternum was still healing (he'd set off every metal detector now) – and asked for the nearest standard hotel. The driver set his cost per mileage counter ticking and he was off, away from the place that did, for some time, become shelter and home.

He put his wallet down next to him. His keys were in his pocket, as was his phone.

He'd have to return home eventually. He couldn't avoid it – just didn't want to do it right now. He still struggled to breathe normally – would have to get that particular prescription filled out soon – and undergoing a possible panic attack in his own apartment would only make that worse. Could possibly land him back in the hospital again.

Until he had to go back to continue his burn treatments, Iori didn't want to see the inside of a hospital again. No matter how well he was treated or how skilled Doctor Yamashita was at his job. It'd removed him from the outside world and it reminded him of how terrible things were for him to even call for emergency services in the first place. Like as not, he'd always carry reminders of this time on his skin, within himself, and deep in the recesses of his mind.

His phone was a weight heavy in his pocket.

He didn't reach for it.

The taxi stopped at a decent-looking hotel. He paid the man and left, walked carefully inside and asked if they had a room available. They did – several, in fact – so he chose the most comfortable one and made his arrangements. Since he didn't have luggage, he took himself upstairs. This time, he took the elevator, since climbing stairs would aggravate his breathing and he still felt unwell. It was something he had to adapt to, to figure out how to shape his life around.

Changes and none that he'd ever asked for.

He needed a shave and a haircut as well. He also wanted decent food again, but none of those were as promising as the bed and the rest that followed. His jacket and shirt were slung over the nearest chair and he soon drifted off, the sheets cool against his overheated skin.

His phone buzzed, the sound soft in the silken silence.

He slept. Thought of nothing else.


	6. Kyo

Plans were being made and groundwork being set. First, his mom stopped by his room, dismissed his door guard, knocked, and asked if she could come in. He'd been expecting this for several days since he was barred from meeting his friends outside, so when Shizuka Kusanagi inquired as to his privacy, Kyo let her in. Closed the door behind her, sat on his bed, and then the conversation began in earnest. His mom wore a beautiful cotton kimono dyed the faintest shade of lavender.

Iori liked purple, which wasn't surprising and had a number of lavender shirts. Kyo thought they looked hideous, but the other man just ignored him and wore them anyway. When they were rivals, he swore the other did it on purpose to deliberately irritate him. After things between them changed, he teased Iori mercilessly about the shirts and also made a point to relegate them to the floor first. He remembered Yagami being amused about that before tackling him.

It was sobering knowing his father knew. He wondered where Yagami was.

His mom had swung his attention back to her, away from those memories and asked him without pretense, "Kyo, what's going on?"

It wasn't as if she didn't know. But she wanted to hear it from him.

So, he responded. "Did you ask Dad? Did he say?"

"Only that you and the last heir of the Yagami clan were up to no good. I guessed somewhat at the context, since he wouldn't say. Said it was disgraceful. I drew my own conclusions. Asked some of the other clan members and your uncle. Some only knew the barest details. Your uncle knows the whole of it and agrees with your father. Kyo, why?"

Here it was.

He grasped that simple question and dove down upon it, like a hawk to prey. "Because things are different now, Mom. It's not the same anymore. Not like before."

"Enough to make you fall for that man?"

Shizuka Kusanagi was never quiet and she never shied away from getting to the root of the matter. Looking at his mom's expression, Kyo saw she simply wanted the truth. An open sincerity, no judgment. Just wanted to hear it straight from him without embellishment, without fear, without lies.

"Things changed…somehow. Not sure when. Or how. But they did."

"And he felt the same?"

"Started with him, actually. I just got into his face about it. That's all."

"How long, Kyo?"

"Six months. A bit before that before he finally understood why he refused to kill me."

"And Yuki doesn't know, does she?" Simply asked, without accusation or harshness.

"No, she doesn't. It's not something I'd –"

"Not something you'd tell the girlfriend you knew since high school." Shizuka ran both palms over the surface of her kimono near her lap. "Do you still care for her, Kyo?"

"Yes."

"But you also care for that young man, don't you?"

"Yeah. In my own way."

"Kyo, you either love someone or you don't. I think you might love both but…it's not exactly fair to Yuki or to Iori Yagami, is it? To be divided like that."

"It wasn't like I –"

"I know, Kyo. Sometimes, it takes you by surprise. But you're stuck here, Kyo. You may need to choose."

"I don't want to hurt her."

"But you also don't want to leave Yagami behind, right?" His mother's expression softened. "Does that young man mean that much to you?"

"He's only followed me around since I was fifteen."

"You know what I mean."

"Yeah." Kyo sighed, brought his legs up and tucked them under him. "He does. We…understand each other. Rivals and all, before." He made an idle wave of his hand. "Kinda made it easier when it happened."

"Your history together."

"Yeah. We laugh about it now. Well, I do at least. Yagami has a...interesting sense of humor."

"He would. His life's been harder than yours." At that, he stared at his mother, surprised. "He is of the Yagami clan, Kyo. No mothers, fathers dead before the heir hits adulthood, a harsh upbringing, and out into the world alone. You've had it lucky compared to him. Don't think I'm unaware of that."

"You don't sound like you disapprove."

"You said it just happened?"

"At least that's what it felt like. I'm not even sure Yagami knows what happened."

"Well." His mother shook her head but a small smile graced her face. "This is certainly an interesting way to unite our clans."

"If only Dad could see it that way."

"He's for the clan. Our clan. You were never meant to take up with the rival clan's heir, after all. Probably gave him a shock." Shizuka stood, a fluid upward motion full of grace and poise. In her lavender kimono, it reminded Kyo of lilies swaying in the wind. "I'll have a talk with him. It may not convince him but he might reconsider some of his methods."

"He probably would," Kyo said, tone dry. "I think you're the only person he's scared of."

"Well…he has reasons to be."

Kyo laughed. It felt great doing so. "Thanks, Mom."

"Kyo…consider this carefully. You have two people at stake here. I wish it wasn't so complicated but…things happen, like you said. You may have to choose, so choose wisely."

"Mom?"

"Yes?"

"You know when I didn't come home after 1997?" He saw her nod. "Kagura-san, Yagami, and I went up against Orochi. Like our three clans in the past. Before we sealed Orochi off, Yagami's ancestor spoke to me. Told me to work with him, to save him from the mistake they made, and that the fault was entirely theirs. So I guess in this way, it's saving him from himself."

"Did you tell your father that?"

"Dad won't listen. Shut me down before I had the chance."

"I'll tweak his ear."

"Ha." Kyo chuckled. "I bet you will."

"You'll need to tell Yuki eventually, though. She needs to know, Kyo, if you want to be honest with her."

"I know." It was one of the things he dreaded. Seeing her plausible reaction…

"Take care of yourself, son. Keep your voice down, okay? Easier to sail through a storm by being calm than wrenching at the wheel. Ships sink that way, when you're in a panic. You're the heir, Kyo. There are ways to do this but not through force alone."

Kyo absorbed all she said, turning his mother's words this way and that. Shizuka Kusanagi was the brains behind their family and this was why. He offered her a small bow, only from the waist since he still sat on his bed, as acknowledgement of her wisdom. She opened his door, stepped through, closed it quietly and left.

It gave him time to think. To continue turning her words around, like a piece of glass held up to the light. One part played and another one to go. He had to make a choice, eventually. This much, he knew.

Just didn't know when it all became so complicated.

* * *

"Hey, Beni, Goro. Thanks for stopping by."

"Sounded important over the phone, man. So, what's up, Kyo?"

He sprung his second line of attack against his house imprisonment, phrasing it in such a way so that his friends didn't realize the cause behind it. "Since I've been stuck at home for a bit, has anyone bothered you about me?"

Benimaru frowned, brows creased in thought. "The only one who would've is Yagami."

"Has he? Bothered you, I mean. Gone around, asking?"

"Now that you mention it…that is odd. Hey, Daimon…you seen him prowling around lately?"

The bigger man shook his head.

"Haven't seen him in…I think about three weeks. Getting closer to four now. Normally, he'd be asking about you. About fighting you. Maybe he got sick or something. Why'd you want to know?"

Kyo shrugged. It was important to play it casual here. "Just wanted to make sure he wasn't giving you a hard time. You know how he can be."

"Yeah, we know. So, since we're here, what do you want to do? Besides talk?"

"What else? Let's spar. Haven't fought in a while."

"Okay, man. Sounds cool. Sounds good, big guy?" Kyo grinned as Benimaru addressed Goro, who nodded in assent. He moved off his bed and opened the door. Ignored the clansman standing in the hallway – the one his mother had dismissed when she came in to speak to him. Took them to the training hall behind the house. Made a mental note to just fight and relax for now. But he needed to get out and find Yagami, because what Benimaru and Goro confirmed didn't bode well. Yagami didn't just vanish like that.

Something had happened. And he intended to find out what.

His mother had said to approach this by other means than force.

Perhaps he could ask Benimaru and Goro to do a small favor for him. To bring him word if Yagami did happen to show up and inquire about him. Because then, at least he'd know the other man was still around. Was still alive.

He might be held here but he had his own networks.

He didn't even need to leave the house to get it started.

Stay calm and sail through the storm. He was trying. At least this was a beginning. A beginning to the end he intended to get to.


	7. Iori

He stayed two more nights at the hotel, charging it to his credit card and used some of the money in his wallet for immediate needs once he got enough sleep. A shave, his hair cut and trimmed, and some food and drink so that his stomach no longer complained. Even with those, he had to be careful, since his healing sternum required controlled breathing, so he chose quick consumables. Feeling strange and out of sorts – the world in frenzy around him – he took the food back to his hotel room and ate there. He was never comfortable around a lot of people and after his ordeal, even less so.

He knew what he looked like – had lost weight – and his eyes felt heavy with everything being too bright, too close. So after his meals, he always slept some more. He wasn't used to this kind of indolence but his body needed it. Every time he woke up, his sheets were drenched with sweat. He spent some more money and got bottles of water. Doctor Yamashita had mentioned dehydration back when he was still a patient on hospital grounds. The last thing he wanted was to faint or become parched from lack of fluids.

So he drank his water – carefully, taking his time – and knew he had to go home. The hotel had served its purpose and was comfortable but he couldn't stay away forever. He had to return, to confront what had happened to him there several weeks ago and what it meant for him now.

A part of him shied away, afraid as to his future.

Iori ditched the water bottle in the wastebasket. There was a four o' clock train heading out in a couple hours. He had several prescriptions to fill, to carry back with him. Perhaps he'd do that after checking out. There was nothing else to preoccupy his time, except for the thoughts in his head.

He clamped down on those hard, unwilling to dwell upon them.

Not now. Never, if he had a choice but since when was he given what he desired?

Even that had been taken away.

He got up from the bed, stashed his keys, wallet, and phone in his pockets and left before that particular line of thought drove him to tears. Or any emotion for that matter. He didn't have time for that – for sentiment, for feelings of any kind.

He had to head home. That was all.

* * *

He fell asleep on the train, cradled by its smooth motion and quietness. When he awoke just in time to make his exit, he felt ill again. The heat surged through his veins, sweat beaded and dripped off his face, and his movements were tremulous. He barely made it past the station's turnstile before he had to move off to the side and sink down to the floor, arms and legs bunched up. His shirt plastered to the damp bandages wrapped around his burned torso and everything was aflame for several minutes, on and off, on and off.

Footsteps approached and a hand was on his shoulder. "Excuse me, sir. Are you all right?" One of the police, middle-aged with dark hair and the start of wrinkles at brow and eyes. "Do you need us to call an ambulance?"

He'd only left the hospital a few days ago. He didn't want to go back.

"I'll be fine," he mumbled, hearing the rasp in his voice. "Just give me…"

"Where do you live, sir? What is your name?"

He told the officer. The man looked at him – Iori wondered what he thought, seeing him like this if he was recognizable – and mentioned about taking a taxi to his place of residence. That the officer would take him there himself, if permission was granted from his superiors. Iori knew that his squad patrolled the station and that this was outside his given range of authority. There was pity in the other's voice and expression; Iori was too worn to care, even if he would've bristled at any other time.

He just wanted to get home and he couldn't even do that without help.

Bitter laughter arose in his throat and he held it back, aware of what would follow.

The officer left, foot traffic flowed past him, and he huddled tighter into himself, a fresh wave of heat leaving him dizzy. He tried to breathe in rhythm, to lull his body into a calmer state but the merciless burning within continued to spike. His strength was running on its last reserves and he just wanted to get home. Could he even do that?

Eventually, the officer returned, took one look at him, and helped him to his feet. He reeled, almost fell over, and if it wasn't for the man at his side, would have collided face-first into the hard tile floor. The world phased in and out around him, voices blurring and becoming only sound without meaning, and Iori panicked, aware he was about to lose consciousness.

He said something – wasn't sure what – and the world melted into nothing.

* * *

"Are you all right, Yagami-san? You fainted for a moment there."

He sat up, his entire body aching and sore – was he suffering another bout of fever? – and realized he was in a side room within the subway station. The officer was here – must've relocated him to avoid the curious stares and unnecessary attention his collapse would've drawn. Heat filled his face and he went red from shame. To be reduced to this…

"I'll still hail the taxi for you. Take you home."

He almost didn't comprehend the words. Caught the gist at the last second and nodded.

He dared not speak.

Not now. Not now.

* * *

The officer was true to his word. A taxi was hailed, he was gently guided inside (last reserves of strength running dry), and the officer got in the back seat with him and gave his address to the driver. The driver took off; he stared out the window, listless and the officer also fell silent. Iori watched the familiar surroundings go by, closed his eyes and tried not to think how he got here, to this point.

He felt pathetic. He _was_ pathetic.

His old man was never able to fight again. What about living? Was he able to…do anything? Or was he treated like an invalid until the end of his days when the blood curse took him away? Was it even the blood curse that killed him?

He pushed away from that thought in fearful haste.

No. He wouldn't go there or contemplate that, because…

Part of his mind cried out for Kyo and he shut that down, too. He couldn't…

When he opened his eyes again – feeling like he'd lived two lifetimes – they were close to his apartment complex. The heat had gone down but the aftereffects remained. He reached for the keys in his pocket, felt his hand trembling, and waited. Waited until they arrived and the officer paid the driver, helped him out, and took him to his floor and before his door.

"Do you need any further assistance, Yagami-san?"

He shook his head, still not trusting himself to speak.

"If you do, just give us a call."

He didn't say anything. The officer clapped a hand on his shoulder, as if to reassure him – Iori had no idea what expression he wore – and then left, calling for his partner to come get him. He heard the officer go down the stairs and only then did he put the key into the lock and turn.

The tumbler fell. The lock clicked.

He was home but he felt like a stranger now.

Stranger to everything he once knew. Stranger to all that was past, that was now dead.

Iori took a breath – not too deep, not too shallow – and pushed the door open. Stepped past the threshold – the apartment was dark – closed the door behind him (the click bringing back awful memories) and removed his shoes. Turned the lights on, saw where Saisyu rendered him helpless, turning him into _this_ – what he was now.

He didn't make it past the entranceway. Didn't even make three steps.

He wanted Kyo. He wanted someone here.

Kyo wasn't here. Would never be again. That hurt. Immensely.

And there was nothing he could do about it but laugh in bitter anguish. When the laughter turned into tears, he wasn't even aware of the change. There was just pain and unending. It would never stop. Not for him.

He wasn't that lucky.


	8. Kyo

Two days after speaking to his mother, Kyo found himself summoned to his father's study. The clansman by his door followed him – like a goddamn prisoner with a warden – until he was safely (under watch) escorted to the appropriate premises. There, he was greeted by other members of the clan, for whom he only held disdain. He saw their expressions were mutual; they probably knew. So be it – he wasn't going to be apologetic about it.

It was with this mindset that he opened the door to his father's study.

Sat down, facing the older man across from him.

Saisyu was dressed in his usual traditional garb, as though reemphasizing his role in the Kusanagi clan. It wasn't as if Kyo needed reminders – every damn day in this house only served to throw that in his face. He wasn't the filial son but he could hear what his old man had to say.

"What's this about?"

His father removed his hands from within his wide kimono sleeves and let them fall upon his knees. "Your mother's been at me. So after some reconsideration, I'm willing to concede on certain matters regarding your current situation."

"Such as?"

"If you wish to meet with your friends outside, you may. However, you must be accompanied by two clansmen. One of them will be your uncle."

Kyo scowled. "Must he?"

"Yes. That's my condition, Kyo. Otherwise, you stay here."

"Fine. Is that all?"

"I've also noticed your phone activity has been extraordinarily busy to one specific number. Son, I'd advise you to stop."

"Is that how you found out? By snooping through my –"

"It's not a number I recognized. So I did some investigating. If you continue this, Kyo, I'll be forced to reevaluate your –"

"My what? Just because I –"

"Because of what you did, the clan's questioning their decision to choose you as heir in the first place!" Saisyu snapped. "You think it can't be taken away? Remember your cousin, son."

"That was Souji's choice. It doesn't affect me."

"Because he stepped away from it, it fell to you. Don't think it can't go to another."

Kyo glared at his father, open enmity plain. "That's supposed to frighten me?"

"It comes with its privileges. Such as this – why your penalty's not more severe."

"And what –"

"We used to execute traitors, son. Back when the clan was young. You've been spared that, so keep your silence."

_That_ chilled Kyo. He'd never seen himself as a traitor – certainly not to the clan – and being with Yagami as a lover never crossed his mind as such. Was he blacklisted as a traitor now? If he was…

"Would you have allowed that, Dad?"

His father met his gaze and Kyo shuddered. "The clan's regulations state as much. If you weren't the heir, I'd be the one to carry out your sentence."

Kyo didn't have any appropriate response to that. His face must've said as much, because Saisyu looked at him and sighed.

"Anything else, son?"

His silence spoke for him.

"Let your mother know I spoke to you."

With that, he was dismissed.

* * *

"Beni, how is it out there?"

"Nothing much going on. Kinda same-old, same-old. No sign of Yagami, either."

Every time Benimaru said that, Kyo felt coldness in the pit of his stomach. Iori was always the first one to come seeking him – that hadn't changed – and it'd been how many days (how many weeks) since anyone had seen him? Osaka was his home. The other man wouldn't just leave. Not without a reason and not without letting him know.

"He hasn't approached you?"

"Not even that, Kyo. He's just not here. Anywhere."

"Beni, I know you have connections. Can you do me a favor here?"

A pause on the other end of the line. "What about?"

Kyo took a deep breath. Decided to throw his trust at his friend. "This is gonna sound odd, Beni, but just listen to me."

"Okaaay…what's going on, Kyo?"

"Yagami and I…we're not exactly enemies anymore."

"No shit. You could've fooled me."

"We're kinda…uh…familiar with each other."

"You've been rivals for how long? You would be."

"Not like that, Beni." He paused and then took the plunge before he lost his nerve. "Not like that."

He hadn't said much – left most of it as implication – but the sudden silence over the other end of the line meant Benimaru got it. After several long seconds, the other's voice spoke over the phone in disbelief. "Shit…you mean you and Yagami…"

"Yeah."

"Does Yuki know?"

"Not yet." It was a problem he needed to deal with and he wasn't sure how to go about addressing it. "Don't tell her, Beni. Or Goro. Or anyone else."

"You and Yagami…how the hell did that –"

"I don't know." He looked out the window of his room, which overlooked the center courtyard of the estate premises. "But it did. And now he's disappeared and I don't know what's happened to him."

Another fall of silence and this time it extended for far longer than comfortable. When his friend spoke again, his voice was tense. "So you want me to use my connections and find where he is? Relay the information to you? Is that it, Kyo?"

"Or find him and speak to him. Let him know I'm trying to reach him."

"That's if he's alive. Or even here."

"Don't say that." Just the mere thought twisted like an embedded dagger in his heart. "Beni, will you do this for me? Can I trust you with this?"

"If I do find him, what do you want me to say?"

"That I want to talk to him. Nothing complicated. Just let him know."

An indrawn breath on the other end. "If that's all, I can do that."

"Thanks, Beni."

"You know…you're taking a big risk here, Kyo. If this comes to light –"

"My dad already knows."

"Well shit."

"Yeah. Beni..." Kyo stepped away from the window and paced back and forth across the wooden floorboards. "Can you tell him something else?"

"Since I'm already in this, what else do you need?"

"Tell Yagami I'm gonna find him. To wait for me. Whatever's going on, that I'll be there."

"Damn, this is serious for you, isn't it?"

"He's only been my rival for how long before this? Beni, you said so yourself."

"It's just so…weird."

"I know." Kyo smiled but it wasn't from happiness. "I owe you one, Beni. Thanks a lot, man."

"You're my friend, Kyo. As long as we're not breaking the law, we're good."

"Yeah. Talk to you later, 'k?"

"Yeah. I'll keep in touch."

"Thanks."


	9. Iori

If his father was still alive, he'd kill him right here and now – not because of the sentiment of a mercy kill but because he'd been disgraced and made the clan lose face. It was with this painful and harsh knowledge that Iori began the slow and agonizing crawl back towards normalcy, or whatever of it he could preserve.

He'd spent the last several days in bed, either sleeping or just lying there, feeling completely drained and unable to get up. Time passed with the shifting of light outside his window and in his sweat-soaked sheets, he cocooned himself away from the reality that faced him. His phone continued ringing but he just didn't have the energy to check. If it was Kyo, then…

He didn't want to think about it.

After that brutal realization dawned on him, he finally mustered the little strength he had to throw the sheets aside and sit up. His hair was plastered greasily against the side of his face, his eyes still felt too heavy, and it was difficult to breathe. Grabbing the medication on the bed-stand next to him, he gave himself a dose of the drug and waited for it to take effect. Sweat continued rolling down the nape of his neck into the sodden bandages and his body itched.

He needed to change them, or else the burns could get infected.

His phone rang again and suddenly, his world lurched.

In the time he'd been gone – a month now – he hadn't contacted his band members or even his agent or manager to let them know that he was unavailable. He hadn't called to make arrangements or to request that they find a substitute bassist. He'd done none of that – had forgotten – and now, the contact showing on the screen was the band manager. The one who called the shots. The one who called everyone to account.

Including him.

Fumbling for the phone, taking the call, Iori heard his voice for the first time in several days. It was hoarse from disuse and didn't help with the slight trembling behind it. "This is Yagami."

"Yagami-san, I've been trying to contact you for the past few weeks. Where were you?"

"I was hospitalized. Had some issues."

"Issues? And you didn't think to call?" As polite as the other man's tone was, the words were cutting. "You didn't think to let anyone know?"

"I was trying not to die," he said, unable to keep the acrid bite from his voice. "Inconvenienced. I couldn't just –"

"It's been a month, Yagami-san. Certainly you could've made time."

"I just got out of the hospital. I couldn't –"

"Do you know how inconvenient you made it for us? How much hassle you gave us because you didn't think to call? Even text?"

"I wasn't able to." He couldn't lose this – not his reputation as reliable. If word spread that he couldn't be relied on, then no one would take him into their band. He'd lose everything he gained and the only other thing Saisyu hadn't taken away – his music. "Hear me out, Wakamatsu. I'll –"

"Will you be able to rejoin us, Yagami-san?"

He paused. "I…"

"That sounds like a 'No.' Any reason for that?"

"I'm still healing. Broke my sternum." He didn't mention the burns or how feverish and weak he constantly was. That would make him a liability and no one liked dealing with those. He'd just never seen himself as one until now.

Iori gritted his teeth, clenching his jaw.

"I see. How long will you be out?"

"Was told four months."

"We can't wait that long, Yagami-san." The voice over his phone had turned precise and cold. "You know we have a tour coming up. A tour that you signed up for when you agreed to the renewal of your contract."

"I know."

"I'm sorry to say this, Yagami-san but it was nice working with you. Maybe you can find other employ once you are done healing."

"Wakamatsu –"

"Our business is concluded. Whatever pay is still due you, you will receive shortly. Have a nice day, Yagami-san." Then nothing but empty air because Wakamatsu had hung up on him. Had sunk a knife into him and twisted it. He was now unreliable – had lost whatever status he'd worked so hard for. His reputation was shot. He was done. Over.

He sat there for a long moment in stunned silence, unable to comprehend what had just befallen him. What he just lost…what…

Iori screamed, then – a sound of pure rage and grief, incoherent and raw.

He flung the phone aside, heard it hit the floor. Covered his face with his hands and screamed until his voice no longer worked. Until it hurt to scream.

Only then did he stop.

The light outside blurred and his throat ached.

* * *

He stayed in his room until evening, watching as daylight slipped gently into twilight and then the full veil of darkness fell. At that point, he got off the bed and stumbled towards the living room. Because of his prior action, he had to take another dose of the medication, since his lungs burned afterwards. His temperature was spiking again – the fluctuations were random – and Iori crossed the room and made it to the guitar before his knees failed.

It'd been a full month since he last played the instrument and it was now dusty. He laid his hand on the strings, felt the hard impress against fingers losing their calluses, and sighed. Leaned his head forward, letting his hair fall in front of his face.

He pressed the fingers of one hand against the strings and used the other to play a basic chord. The music helped but not much. He'd lost his career…lost it because…

He played another chord and then another, letting the bite of the strings counter the hurt he felt in so many ways. He'd lost Kyo, his health, his mobility, his ability as a fighter, and now his career was gone. It took him years to build up but in just one month and one phone call later, it was as if it'd never been. Ruined. Utterly destroyed.

His hands faltered on the guitar, the strummed chord dying in mid-air.

Iori blinked.

His throat ached again. He clenched his teeth and denied it to himself this time.

Played another chord and then another. Again and again and again.

The music was his voice.

The music was his voice.

The music was his voice.

It was all that he had left.


	10. Kyo

"Kyo," his mother said, the slight tilt of her head the only warning he got, "Yuki's here to see you." She was dressed in a pale blue kimono this time, embroidered with a subtle pattern that carried a faint sheen in the light. It'd only been three days since the blowup with his dad and while he had been considering what to do or say in case Yuki asked – or didn't, which was worse – he hadn't expected her to drop by any time soon. "She seems rather excited. Will you see her?"

Not seeing her would only make her suspicious. It was also cowardly for him to avoid her, since he still liked her and just because he also liked Iori didn't mean his feelings for her were any less. He'd been sitting at his desk, going through his cell phone – the lack of response still drove an icy feeling of unease into his gut – when his mother dropped by. With Yuki at his front door, there was no way he was going to sidestep her. He put his phone into his pocket, pushed his chair back, and stood. "Yeah. I'll see her."

"I'll let her know you'll be arriving soon."

With that, Shizuka Kusanagi left.

"Arriving soon" in the Kusanagi household pertaining to him and Yuki meant meeting in the usual spot, which was in a small room adjacent to the common family room. It also meant all conversation unless spoken in whispers could be heard from either side, since the walls weren't insulated. However, since he and Yuki never discussed anything private, there was no harm to it. Kyo cracked his neck, stretching the tight muscles and opened his door.

Ignored the clansman standing guard outside.

Ignored him as he was escorted to the room, which he knew very well, dammit.

What he did notice was how the other man peeled off before he could be seen by Yuki. Of course. His dad did mention not giving her the slightest hint something was off in their house. Potential marriage prospects and all. An asset to the clan, if one wanted to see her that way. Somehow, Kyo thought Yuki wouldn't take kindly to seeing herself like that – it harkened back to the traditional ways of a woman's role and his girlfriend was a bit too feisty to just submit to that. Hell, even he didn't dare to cross her in certain ways.

She reminded him of his mother in some aspects.

Not quiet. Not just an ornament for her man.

Something for him to think about.

"Kyo!" Yuki exclaimed as he entered the room, tread soft on the _tatami_ matting. He smiled as she crossed the space between them, step lithe and light. "How are you? I was wondering if we could go out and…well, you know!"

A date. He had gone on several with her, even while meeting with Iori in secret over the last six months before…

He shut that thought down before it could show on his face.

"What do you have in mind?"

She beamed, almost glowing. "Well, I was thinking we can go to a concert. There's one with this choir and orchestral group in a few weeks. And I'll ask my parents if you can come over to my place afterwards."

"Your folks will be home?"

"Of course, Kyo." She smiled, amused. "They trust you and all, but…"

"Yeah, I know." Even with him being chaste around her – something he couldn't claim with his time spent with Yagami (don't think that right now) – Yuki's parents still hovered about her, protective of their daughter's virtue. Young men and all that talk. He knew how that belief still held true and he couldn't blame them for that.

"So…you want to go?"

"Why not?" He refrained from shrugging, knowing how she'd perceive that. "Want me to buy the tickets? Just let me know the group, the place and time, and I'll take care of that."

Yuki's smile warmed him. There was a sparkle in her eyes. She wore a green dress (it was one of her favorites) which was knee-length for modesty but draped nicely on her. It went well with her brown hair and eyes. While she wasn't Shermie – that infamous late fighter who had boasted of her fashion designer skills and tastes – she was Yuki and she carried her own sense of flair. Her happiness spilling over, she reached out and hugged him.

"Thank you, Kyo!"

Grinning, he embraced her back. For a petite girl, she had a formidable squeeze.

"Just give me the details later. How are you?"

"The usual! You won't believe how crazy it is at work!"

"Oh?" He raised an eyebrow. "In what way?"

"All the company politics. All the gossip. I try to avoid it but…"

"Still gets you?"

"Hard not to hear it." Yuki sighed. "My co-worker's very chatty."

"Then tell her to shut up."

"Kyo!" Her expression of astonishment made him chuckle. "That's rude!"

"That's what I'd do. Unless you like hearing her go on and on…"

"That's still rude!"

This time, he shrugged. "Up to you."

"So, what about you? How have you been, Kyo?"

A landmine of a question. How was he? Only tangled up in worries and fraught with tension, quarreling with his father and launching his own secretive strike outside the confines of his home via Benimaru. All because his father discovered his relationship with Iori. Whether it was just through his phone records or something else, he had no idea how far his father's reach went. That concerned him. But he couldn't mention any of this to Yuki. Not now. Not with that future date already marked in his mental calendar.

"Same old, same old. Nothing much."

"Really? Can't be that boring for you."

Oh, if she only knew. "Afraid so. Even the great Kyo Kusanagi has boring days."

She gave him a playful punch. "Glad I'm here, then."

"You want to give me the details? I can order the tickets on my phone right now. Confirm it with you here."

"Sure!" Opening her purse – a sleek brown leather bag – Yuki handed him a piece of paper. It was a printout of the venue, date, time, and musical group. "Was waiting for them to come here since last year. Glad they made it this time."

Kyo read the venue and paused in the middle of searching for the ticket purchase website. The place was close to Yagami's home – only ten minutes away by foot – and he still had the spare keys in his room. But why was he thinking that right now? He was going on a date with Yuki. He couldn't let his private thoughts about Iori encroach upon his and Yuki's time together. That would be…unfair. To her.

His mother said he'd have to choose eventually.

He only hoped for some more time to consider.

Yuki hadn't caught his faltering. Quickly, before she realized it, he finished purchasing the tickets. "There. Done." He showed her his phone screen with the confirmation. "Just need to pick them up at the ticket office."

She embraced him again, smiling. He really did love her.

But then again…

Biting back his sigh, he also kept his thoughts off his face. "Yuki…"

"Yes? What is it, Kyo?"

"I've been gone so many times. Missing for several years. You remember before. Have you ever felt…slighted? That I wasn't always there for you?"

"I did miss you back then. Even now, if you're gone for several weeks participating in that tournament. I don't get it, but…I'll always be waiting for you."

A small knife twisting in the wound of his guilt. Kyo didn't say anything.

"Kyo? Is something wrong?"

"No. It's nothing."

She looked at him but didn't press further. Relieved, Kyo pocketed his phone. Sat down on the _tatami_ matting and watched as Yuki followed suit. She reached her hands out to him. He took them and held them, familiar with their slender smallness, the sleekness of her bones, and the softness of her skin. Doing this reminded him of other hands – larger, rougher but capable of surprising gentleness – and it only conflicted him more.

He did have to choose.

He just didn't know whom.

He couldn't have both, because it didn't work that way.

"Kyo? Are you sure everything's all right?"

"Yeah. I'm okay, Yuki."

She didn't need to know. Not right now.

They had a date three weeks from now. He wasn't going to be the one dashing her hopes, shattering her happiness, erasing that smile from her face. He wasn't going to say anything until he himself knew exactly what he wanted. He was still waiting to hear from Benimaru. There was nothing from that front yet.

Yuki reached up to touch his cheek. He leaned into it, closing his eyes.

Life was in some ways most unfair.


	11. Iori

"Thank you very much!"

Iori heard the convenience store clerk but deigned to respond. He usually didn't, so he wasn't about to break routine. The way his life was headed, he now relied on routine just to keep himself going. Some days were worse than others, like the day before. After he lost his job, he'd kept himself cooped up inside his apartment, unsure how to proceed. Yesterday had hit him like a truck health-wise and after staring at himself in the mirror – his cheekbones almost razor-sharp against his skin – he knew measures needed to be taken.

He continued losing weight, which alarmed him. Something had to be done.

So he left the apartment to buy food. Did so in the morning and came back. Ate and slept. Played his guitar. Slept some more. Forced himself to eat even though he didn't feel hungry. He was going to do the same today and over time make it part of his daily life. Along with this was his constant reliance on the prescribed painkillers and other medication. Breathing was still a chore and pain had become his worst enemy even at night while he was asleep. He'd woken up before, hunched over in agony.

It wasn't the way he ever saw himself living, yet what could he do but survive?

Even now, he had his breathing medication in his pocket.

He still felt pathetic and he was weak. He couldn't deny either of those, as much as he wanted to. But complaining would get him nowhere and Iori knew he was alone. That no one else would hold him up, would carry him down this lonely road. That if he didn't haul himself up and move, he'd just stagnate and die.

Saisyu Kusanagi might've crippled him, rendered him into a shadow of his former self but Iori refused to give him the satisfaction of withering away because he gave up. Despite everything he'd been through to this point, he still belonged to the Yagami clan and they never just quit. Also, Kyo was someone he respected and loved and Kyo would never expect him to just lie down and die. Doing so would be shameful and he didn't want to disappoint Kyo. Ever.

But life had turned from living into survival now and Iori couldn't say that it wasn't difficult. He'd thought his life hard before – he'd no idea, did he?

Walking back from the convenience store, being fully aware of his condition, he was determined to get home before the first heat spike of the day. When that hit, he was worthless for the next few hours. He'd never forgotten that embarrassing day in the subway station and he'd do anything to avoid a repeat of it. If he passed out at home, no one saw it. No one pitied him. He still had a pile of mail to sort and take care of – bills to pay and junk to toss – but that required energy, which was in short supply these days.

Iori breathed; his lungs burned.

Some things once damaged could never be mended.

Aside from the physical aftermath of his traumatic ordeal, Iori found it almost impossible to return to those texts and videos Kyo sent him. They reminded him of his loss – of what had been – and even certain areas in his apartment carried memories too strong and painful now to reminisce. There were even pieces of music he could no longer listen to, because Kyo had been there to experience it with him. Kyo's presence from those months before continued to linger and haunt those spaces; perhaps, he should consider moving out.

So much to think about. Kyo was no longer here – would not be coming back. Saisyu had guaranteed that and it was the second month now. Whatever Kyo's old man was doing, it was apparently working. There was nothing he could do about it. Nothing but move on.

Move on without Kyo. Unthinkable. It staggered him to even give it serious consideration. His whole life revolved around the other man. He'd never lived a day without him either in his thoughts or him seeking the other out. They had been rivals – had known each other for years and being lovers just made them closer. For him to even think about cutting that bond…

Well, it'd been cut for him, hadn't it?

The only thing left was for him to step away.

Step away and what?

Iori shivered, glancing at the sun wheeling overhead. The day was mild, the sky was high and blue wisped with clouds, and aside from his own body temperature, it was probably comfortable. There was even a light breeze cooling the sweat on his face. He stopped walking and found shelter under a store awning, staying in the shade.

A life without Kyo? Death would be better.

Had Saisyu known that by keeping him alive? By not killing him that afternoon?

Iori trembled and tilted his head back, pressing it against the cool concrete wall. It was torture, living and knowing and realizing that all he had to do was reach out. Reach out and take that chance, hoping that Saisyu wouldn't discover it. But it was a slender chance and if the Kusanagi head patriarch found out…

Better to die that afternoon than face the inferno promised if he transgressed.

He'd survived his injuries. Lived in pain, yes, but survived. He wasn't about to throw it away because of one phone call or text. He didn't know how Saisyu Kusanagi found out and he couldn't afford to take chances.

Kyo sent the occasional message. Iori didn't answer any of them.

He hoped the other man understood through his silence. It wasn't that he didn't care. He just…couldn't. Not if he wanted to continue staying here, being here, being alive. If he could even catch glimpses of him in the city, that would be fine.

But that meant following the law imposed by Saisyu and…

He let out a dry hoarse laugh. Here he was, the last heir of the Yagami clan and he was following to the letter the strictures given to him by the Kusanagi clan's head patriarch. It was a dark sad irony and his father would've killed him for even kowtowing to the other. Would've killed him, blood wet and red on his fingers and considered it a deed well done.

Iori closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. Usually, he needed a smoke right about now but by the time his hospital stay was complete, he'd undergone a thorough nicotine withdrawal. Smoking in his current condition would kill him – would damage his already scarred lungs – and he'd enough problems without incurring further risks.

Opening his eyes, he glanced down the street. It was time he headed home.

Already, he felt his temperature rising, which was a precursor to the heat spike.

Pushing himself off the wall, he dragged his feet along. It already felt like a long day and it'd barely started. To make things worse, he wasn't hungry. Just feverish and going through the motions to keep himself anchored to today.

This was what passed for normalcy, for routine.

Would death have been better?

He decided not to answer that. Better not to have thought of it at all.

* * *

" _Hey, Yagami…if you're home, it's Nikaido."_

Iori turned over on the couch, exhausted. There was a voice coming through his intercom – familiar and somewhat irritating – and he just wanted whoever it was to go away. He'd barely made it back before the heat shot through his system. He hadn't even eaten yet – just dropped right here and slept for several hours. If the son-of-a-bitch outside would leave, he might be able to grab a quick bite before dozing off again.

_"Yagami…look, I know we're not on the best of terms. I'm here because of Kyo. If you're in there, let me in. I need to talk to you."_

Did he just hear…Kyo's name? Who was that again outside his door?

_"I'll leave my card in your box. You can give me a call."_

He was sluggish. Moving slow – too slow, too awkward on his feet – towards the door. Sidestepping the place where Saisyu dropped him, Iori lurched past the entranceway and fumbled for the chain and lock. Unlocked the door and threw it open, just in time to catch sight of blond hair and the telltale midriff-baring shirt. He made a sound, which should've been Nikaido's surname but his voice rasped without coherency.

It was enough, though. The other man stopped and turned to look at him.

Looked at him hard – astonishment clear on his face – as if he couldn't believe what he was seeing. Iori knew he looked different but Nikaido's expression was a gut-punch. Was he unrecognizable now?

_"Yagami?"_

"You want to talk. I'm tired. Get inside."

Astonishment changed to annoyance on the blond man's face; Iori couldn't care less. He'd hear him out and then ask him to leave. He needed food – had to gain some weight back – and then crash on his bed, which was actually comfortable. Benimaru Nikaido being here ruined his routine and…wait…

"How the hell do you know where I live?"

"My family has connections, Yagami. I was asked to find your whereabouts."

Iori narrowed his eyes. "By whom?"

"By Kyo. Don't know what he sees in you, but I'm doing a favor for him."

"He…he asked you?"

"He's been trying to reach you, Yagami. Going crazy not hearing from you. Wants to know if you're even here, alive or dead. Guess I can tell him you're still breathing."

Iori didn't respond. Silence fell.

"He's been contacting you, hasn't he?"

"He has." Iori looked past the other man, fixing his gaze on the sunlit expanse outside. "Get in."

Once Nikaido crossed the threshold and removed his shoes, Iori closed the door, locked it and stumbled his way back to the couch. It was slick with sweat; he sat, dipping his head down briefly to catch his breath. Nikaido continued standing, having not been offered a seat but that was fine. Iori felt his chest ache along with the rest of his joints and hoped he could last until after this discussion. He needed his painkillers soon. Inflammation was a major issue for him now and with his burns still healing – skin grafts required for the worst – pain was always around the corner.

He wiped the side of his face. His palm and fingers were slick and wet.

"You look like shit, Yagami."

"That's very insightful, Nikaido. What exactly are you here for?"

The blond man huffed, crossed his arms, and shifted his footing. "Why haven't you gotten back to Kyo? He's been –"

"Is he okay?"

"His dad found out. About you two, I mean."

"Is he okay, Nikaido?" His voice had lowered, tone soft. "He's all right, isn't he?"

"He's fine. Just worried. Wanted to tell you a few things."

"Such as?"

"That he'll come and find you. To wait for him. He wants to talk to you, Yagami."

Iori took a shallow breath and felt his chest constrict. "I…I can't."

"You can't or you won't?"

"I…" He closed his hands into fists, sharp nails biting deep into his palms. Tiny pinpricks of pain and a different sort of wetness staining them from within. "I can't."

Across from him, Benimaru sighed. "You care for him, don't you?"

"Yes."

"Then why don't you –"

"You don't understand, Nikaido. He doesn't need to know. It's best if he…" He wanted to cry. Talking about Kyo, knowing that Kyo was still trying to get to him was… "He's better off forgetting about me. His father…he's risking himself..."

"He's aware of that. That's why he sent me. You want me to tell him you said that?"

Iori startled, eyes widening. " _No!_ Don't! That'll…" If he even contacted Kyo – Saisyu never specified how or by what method – and he was found out, then he'd die. Cease to exist and Kyo wouldn't even know. "I didn't say anything."

Nikaido studied him, his scrutiny making him uncomfortable. "Did someone threaten you?"

"No."

"Then why are you –"

"It's nothing." He wanted the other man to stop asking questions. The less he knew, the better. "It's...it doesn't concern you, Nikaido."

"Anything to say to Kyo?"

He shook his head. Of course he did, but Kyo's old man would kill him.

"Can I at least tell Kyo what I saw? About you, I mean?"

Iori opened his mouth and then closed it. Nodded.

Again, Benimaru sighed. "You seem different."

"No shit. What made that obvious?"

"Guess I'll see myself out. I'll let Kyo know." Benimaru Nikaido stepped towards the entranceway and put his shoes back on. Before he opened the door, he hesitated – Iori saw him pause in mid-action – and turning, looked at him. "Yagami, if he calls, just let him know –"

"I can't."

The blond man turned back. "I see. I'll let him know I spoke to you."

The door opening and closing. Silence returning and with it, the weight of everything he tried to forget. Kyo sent Nikaido to find him, to see how he was doing. To talk to him, to… Kyo wanted to find him, asked him to wait for him, that… Iori opened his hands, staring down at his blood-smeared palms. Four deep crescent moons in each, blood still flowing. His chest hurt. His eyes burned. Everything was suddenly too hot and he was tired.

He lay back down on the couch. Closed his eyes.

Kyo was looking for him. Knew something was wrong. Would come to find him.

Should he dare to hope or should he convince himself it'll all be for nothing?

Iori turned onto his side, hair spilling over onto the cushion he used as a pillow. His hands stung but that was a minor inconvenience, easily dealt with. _Kyo…_ The other's name bright in a world gone dark. He clung to it and hoped.

Within minutes, he was asleep.


	12. Kyo

His phone buzzed next to his head. Reaching out from under his blanket, Kyo swiped and grabbed a hold of it, blinking the sleep from his eyes. When he saw the name on the screen, he immediately accepted the call. "Shit, it's four in the morning, Beni. You couldn't have called tomorrow?"

"Better now than during the daytime, since you're sending me sneaking." A small pause from the other end of the line. "I found him."

"What?" Now he was awake. Kyo sat up, the blanket slipping off and folding around his waist. "Where is he?"

"At his home. Kyo, he's in a bad way, man. If you want to do something, do it quick."

"What do you mean?"

"He's sick. Looked ready to drop. Couldn't have me out of there fast enough."

"What do you mean by 'sick', Beni?"

"I mean 'sick'. Guy's lost weight – almost didn't recognize him – and he was sweating like crazy. Looked like he could barely breathe. Couldn't walk straight."

_"What?"_

"Yeah. I'm not kidding." A heavy sigh. "Something happened to him, Kyo. You got any ideas as to what?"

"He was healthy the last time I saw him." That had been two months ago, the last time being a little after Iori's birthday. The other man had been hale and in his prime. Iori had just turned twenty four and couldn't have looked better. "If this happened right when…" He stopped, not liking where his thoughts led. "Did you talk to him, Beni?"

"Yeah and there's something weird about that, too."

"What about?"

"I asked him if he had anything to tell you. He looked like he did but refused to say. He's fucking scared of something, Kyo. Dunno what."

"Scared?"

"Yeah. Scared. You should've seen the look on his face. As though something was gonna get him. I've never seen him scared before. You?"

Just the thought of Iori Yagami being terrified was…well, it wasn't an image that came to mind at all. Yagami stared the world down and dared it to do its worst, always knowing that he'd come through just fine. He'd never seen Iori scared before. It just didn't happen. "Beni…did he say anything at all to you?"

"He asked if you were okay. Asked me twice. I told him you were."

"Did he know I was trying to –"

"Yeah, he did. But when I asked him why he didn't get back to you, he said he couldn't."

"He couldn't?"

"More like, he can't." A lengthier pause this time. "Kyo, I think it all goes back to the same thing. He's scared of something."

"Or someone." There was only one possibility and Kyo didn't like it. At all. "Beni, he was fine a few months ago. My dad told me he found out last month. The same day I couldn't reach Yagami."

An indrawn breath on the other end. "Shit. No way that's a coincidence."

"I asked my dad if he did anything to him. He said Yagami didn't concern him."

"And yet, you couldn't reach him."

"That's what bothers me. And now, you're saying he's sick as hell and…"

"Sick as hell and afraid to talk to you. To relay word to you. Kyo, you think your dad –"

"I don't think. I know." It was the one thing Kyo was afraid of, and this latest speculation by Benimaru seemed confirmation enough. Everything lined up – Iori's disappearance, the absence of response on that same day, the hardline rules laid down by his father, and now Iori suffered from some kind of ailment and still wouldn't get back to him. In the end, everything pointed towards his dad and Kyo was unable to shake his gut feeling that that was true.

Somehow, his father had done something to Iori. The question was what?

"So, what are you gonna do?"

What was he going to do? He wanted to get into his father's face, ask him some hard questions and demand some answers but… "Dunno where to start, Beni. Not like I can leave the house."

"You have people tagging along?"

"Yeah. My uncle and some other dipshit from the clan. To make sure I'm 'on my best behavior'."

"Well shit, that makes things difficult. Look, don't do anything stupid, Kyo."

"Whaddya mean?"

"I mean, don't go screaming into your father's face. If Yagami's that scared, your father's got some leverage on him. I asked him if someone had threatened him. He told me 'no'. I'm thinking he's lying on purpose."

"He doesn't want you to know."

"That, or he doesn't want me to dig deeper. If it's your dad, what could he possibly threaten Yagami with?"

Kyo frowned, shifting the phone slightly. "You said he's weak?"

"Kyo, if I wanted to, I could've crossed the room and strangled him. I don't think he's capable of fighting back…not successfully."

"Then, it's not a beating. Yagami could rebound from that."

"You think –"

"If he's that weak and you're capable of killing him…" Kyo took a deep breath, trying to settle his nerves. "The only thing my dad could've threatened him with is death."

"But I thought Yagami wasn't afraid of death."

"Not the idea, no. The method, the way out...it all depends."

"So something less than glamorous."

"Something shameful. Something even he can't tolerate. He has his pride, Beni. You know that."

"Of course I know that. Don't we all?" The other man huffed over the phone. "Well, whatever your dad's done to him, he hasn't lost his charm." That last word was delivered with heavy sarcasm. "He's as unfriendly as usual. Whatever do you see in him, Kyo?"

"It's not something you'll understand, Beni."

"Do _you_ understand it?"

"Sometimes, no but does it matter?" He'd thrown the covers aside and swung his legs over the side of the bed. His eyes having adjusted to the darkness, Kyo made out the outlines of his room – all the corners and shapes. His phone was a faint source of illumination in the dark. "He's fine with me and I with him. Good outcome, don't you think?"

"You still have Yuki."

"I know that."

"How are you gonna deal with that?"

"You let me figure that out, okay?" He hadn't meant to get testy but Yuki was a delicate situation that he was still wracking his brains about. He had no solution yet.

"Do right by her, Kyo. She deserves more than this."

"You think I don't realize that?"

"Then why did you get involved with Yagami? Like that?"

"Things just happened. Can't really give you an explanation at four something in the morning."

"I get it. I get it. Sheesh." There was a brief pause as Benimaru stopped talking. When he resumed, his tone was more restrained. "I gave him my business card."

"He has your number."

"Yeah. Hope it does something."

"Beni, you're the only link between us right now. If he calls you –"

"He won't call you back, Kyo. Hope you understand that."

"If it means he dies, then I get that. Okay, if he calls…can you set up something between us?"

A slight hesitation from the other end. "Like what?"

"Oh, I dunno…like some business call. Your family does it a lot, right?"

"You mean a conference call? On a separate line?"

"Something like that. Something where he doesn't have to be afraid to talk to me. If he calls and you can talk him into that…"

"I'll do what I can. But he needs to call, Kyo. If he doesn't –"

"I know." Iori Yagami afraid and his dad the culprit behind it. What the hell did his dad do to Yagami that he was that weak now? Kyo made a mental note to check the ancestral records; perhaps, he could glean some knowledge from there. Like Benimaru said, if Iori's life was on the line, he absolutely _could not_ confront his father about this. Even an accusation would tip his hand and point the finger at some contact with Yagami. That would be fatal for the other man, and Kyo would never be able to live that down. "Thanks, Beni."

"Yeah, no problem. I'll let you know if he calls."

"Do. I want to talk to him."

"I'm sure he does, too. Just gotta get him past that fear."

"He just doesn't want to die. I'm sure it was a bad death my dad threatened him with."

"Shit." The other man over the phone made a sound. "You know, your dad doesn't seem like that kinda guy."

Kyo scoffed. "He's been a hardass ever since he found out. You haven't seen this side of him, Beni."

"Nor do I want to. Okay, I'll let you go. Gonna be five soon if we keep talking."

"Yeah. I need my sleep."

"So do I. Just giving you an update, that's all. I'll see if I can stop by sometime soon, 'k?"

"Sounds good. See ya, Beni."

"Good luck, Kyo. You're gonna need it."

Kyo scoffed again. "Thanks, man." He waited until the other hung up and his screen returned to its default display. Turning the phone off, he put it back on the bedside table and gazed into the darkness. So now that he knew what was going on with Yagami, he'd better start moving fast. His date with Yuki was in three weeks but according to Benimaru, he didn't have three weeks to spare. Not if the other's condition was deteriorating and who knew what that'd do to Yagami as time went on.

He had to see him soon. He needed to speak with him first.

_Dammit, Yagami. Call Beni. I need to talk to you._

He didn't go back to sleep for a while. Not until he was able to quiet the tumultuous thoughts in his head. Yuki. Yagami. Dad. Beni. Mom. All his relationships and the entanglements between them. His little spy game against his dad's. His mom's own network and her involvement in this. Yuki's sheltered innocence. Yagami's reticence and unheard of fear. His father looming in the near distance, always watchful and baleful – all in the name of the Kusanagi clan.

_Try to stop me, Dad. I'm not playing your game much longer._

He went to sleep, holding onto that thought like a talisman.

First contact had been made. Now, he just needed to wait for Yagami to make his move.

He hoped he'd call. He needed him to call.


	13. Iori

Iori kept Benimaru Nikaido's business card in his back pocket, unwilling to throw it out along with his junk mail. Using the time in between his heat-stricken moments, he decided to clean out his apartment. Not only did it give him something else to do besides eat and sleep, which comprised most of his day, but the activity was a mental inventory of sorts. He went through his few belongings methodically, deciding which still held sentimental value and which ones did not. What he discovered, to his chagrin and pain, was that some stirred memories he didn't want to remember.

Not now. Not with all the recent happenings.

Nikaido at his doorstep. Kyo searching for him. Kyo wanting to talk to him.

He hadn't thrown Nikaido's card out. Did he expect it to do something for him? Was he holding onto false hope? Why did he still have it?

He put aside the small stack of music CDs he was working on and brushed his hair out of his eyes, feeling its dampness as he did. Even now, he was sweating – his heat spike had been a few hours ago – and with his intake of painkillers and his dose of breathing medication, he felt somewhat normal. Enough to be sitting on the floor, his music collection bringing back memories of tenderness, laughter, and the way how things used to be.

Miles Davis.

John Coltrane.

Masato Honda.

Musicians he'd introduced to Kyo, who only liked rock music and didn't quite understand jazz. It took a while but eventually, the other man admitted it wasn't bad and curled up alongside him listening to it. Sometimes, they did just that when they weren't in the mood for anything else. Those evenings or mornings were quiet and they'd both been content just being together. Smoky saxophone and deep bass notes in his apartment and Kyo's mild voice sometimes in his ear, a lighter contrast to his baritone. He'd fallen asleep with Kyo murmuring nonsense before, especially if he was tired from a long work day in the studio or venue.

Had woken up during those times to find Kyo still there, a warm presence beside him.

That felt like so long ago.

Blinking, Iori placed another CD case on the pile, relegating it to the 'box it and forget it' category he designated these items to. His guitar was staying, of course. It'd been the first big purchase in his life when music became serious for him and a good Rickenbacker was hard to find. One like his was rare, since it was a classic and Iori treasured it like he did his ring, his watch, and everything else that mattered to him.

The few girlfriends he had years ago, before circumstances divided them.

Kyo – once again, division occurring outside of their control.

Nikaido's card in his back pocket.

Iori paused for a brief moment, wiping the sweat from his brow. He scrambled off the floor, reaching for the medication on his bed-stand. Took a dose and waited for it to take effect. Coughed and sat down on the bed, on the rumpled and sweat-stained sheets. His sight fell on the bed-stand's single drawer and a memory arose. Putting his breathing medication aside with a clatter, he reached for the drawer, opening it.

Inside were his watch, the box for the ring he was currently wearing, some loose change, and a smaller black leather box tucked in the back. It was this that he retrieved, keeping the drawer open as he settled back onto the bed. Kyo had given this to him on his birthday and he'd kept it stashed away, unworn. That had disappointed the other man but Iori had his reasons. For one, he wasn't quite sure how to approach a gift like this. Second, wouldn't wearing it declare something?

Kyo thought he'd made a fuss over nothing.

Iori thought he was being reasonable. Besides, he didn't fuss.

The memory returning, Iori opened the box. Inside gleamed a ring the color of gunmetal, sleek and cool and dark. Kyo had gotten his ring measurements somehow – wasn't sure when – and commissioned it. It was the inner part of the ring that mattered, though. The part that made Iori unsure about wearing it. He could still recall some of their discussion that day a few months ago after Kyo handed it to him without his usual flourish in the living room.

_"Really, Kyo? Isn't that fucking blatant?"_

_The other man shrugged. "Took it to some guy in Kyoto. He just thought it was a cool design." Kyo fixed him with a cool stare. "I'm careful, Yagami. No one's gonna track us down through this."_

_He held the ring to the light, letting it fall upon the singular design etched in its inner surface. Expensive work – one part of it was polished to a mirror sheen; the other almost frosted insofar as could be done with steel. Must've taken a good chunk out of whatever allowance Kyo had, or a small part of his earnings from the tournaments. "You didn't need to do this. I don't celebrate –"_

_"Stop being a killjoy and just take it, Yagami."_

_"I already have a ring."_

_"I know. You wear it every day. You can switch up, you know?"_

_Now he looked at the brunet across from him, eyebrow raised. "It's not like being in bed, Kyo. This is…" Kyo colored slightly but didn't say anything otherwise. Iori looked at the ring again, at its beautiful finish and hefty weight. Expensive and meaningful. "I'll keep it."_

_"Will you wear it?"_

_"With that design?" He looked again at the other man. "Your jeweler in Kyoto mightn't know but it's different here. If someone were to see it…"_

_"They won't."_

_"And you can be sure how?"_

_"Because you won't let anyone else see it."_

_"Rings get misplaced. Lost. Stolen." Iori closed his fist around the ring, feeling its luxuriant smoothness against his skin. "I can't guarantee anything, Kyo. If someone saw that…"_

_"They won't."_

_"Hard enough to keep this under wraps, you understand? This just…" Well, it complicated things. To Iori, this was an outright declaration of their relationship. One they had to keep secret for so many reasons. "I'll keep it. It...it means a lot." That was as far as he'd go without outright saying thanks. He never did. By now, Kyo knew how to read his unspoken thoughts._

_The expression on the other's face was still somewhat unhappy. "Wear it, Yagami. It's not meant to be kept in a box."_

He hadn't worn it. The possibility of discovery should the design become known was too great a risk and Iori considered all the outcomes – none of them pleasant for either him or Kyo. In the end, he put it away and despite Kyo's disappointment the last time they met, Iori thought he made the right decision. How was he to know that barely three weeks later all his caution would be for naught and that his life would turn out like this?

He turned the ring to the light, to illuminate the inner curve.

There, against the dark gunmetal sheen, shone the unified circle made by crescent moon and the corona of the sun. Burnished and bright, the corona stood in sharp contrast to the moon's subtly frosted arc. Instead of being diametrically opposed, the crests of their clans were as one. To Iori, this symbolism was direct and telling. It was a good thing Kyo hadn't considered their names on the ring – for one, that would've been suicidally stupid and two, Iori would've smacked him upside the head if he'd done that. It reeked of melodrama and stupid romance stories and at least Kyo had common sense not to go there.

It was a nice ring, though, and even now, the weight was comfortable.

Back in March – _was it really only that long ago?_ – Kyo wanted him to wear this. He didn't even try it on during his birthday and the other man's disappointment was palpable. He didn't like making Kyo feel that way – tried not to do it often – and now that he had the ring to hand, Kyo wasn't here. Instead, Benimaru Nikaido was Kyo's messenger and go-between and Kyo…Kyo was trying to reach him, trying to cross that divide that Saisyu made and…

And what was he doing?

Nikaido's business card in his back pocket. Iori reached for it with his other hand, removed it, placed it on the bed and looked hard at it. At the number above Nikaido's e-mail and below his tagline of 'Professional Model (United States & Japan)'. He refrained from snorting at that, for despite his usual derision aimed at the blond man, Nikaido was anything but an airhead while here. He'd shown some keen insight – how had he guessed at his predicament? – and seemed to take his responsibility as messenger seriously. If anything, Iori owed him some respect for that. Some, not all.

Nikaido was still an unknown in this situation between him, Kyo, and Saisyu. How far his role played, Iori had yet to discover. Wiping his face again, sweat spattering on the floor, Iori looked up at the ceiling and closed his eyes for a few seconds.

He was at a crossroads now and he had to decide.

Nikaido's card with its contact information offered him the slimmest of possibilities. If he were to call, he could ask if arrangements could be made. He wanted to see Kyo, if only a glimpse. As long as he didn't approach him, he wouldn't be running afoul of Saisyu's warning. Surely, they could share the same spaces without him offending the Kusanagi clan as a whole?

Kyo was scrambling to find him. To reunite.

What was he doing? Cowering? Waiting to be rescued?

Iori made an indecipherable sound and looked back down, opening his eyes. He wasn't a coward – didn't consider himself one – and in any other circumstance, he'd tell Saisyu Kusanagi to fuck off. But in his current condition, that'd be a deadly mistake and it wasn't as though he could fight any of them now…

He took a shaky breath. Nikaido's card. His life in the balance.

He was still losing weight. Each day, he grew gaunter. Soon, he wouldn't be able to recognize himself in the mirror. Soon, life just might stop without him realizing it. It'd be an end but it'd come silent and sudden and without pain.

Before that though, he wanted to see Kyo.

To make sure he was all right. That he could carry on, after.

Nikaido could relay his message. If it came to that.

Sliding his usual ring off his finger, Iori slid the gunmetal one in its place. Felt the design against his skin, as if reaffirming his bond with Kyo. His fingers were thinner these days as well, so he jammed the chrome steel one on top, keeping the new ring in place.

He felt better doing so, as though arming himself for what was ahead.

He picked up his phone. Dialed Nikaido's number. Waited.

"Benimaru Nikaido speaking."

"Nikaido," he said, keeping his standard terseness. "This is Yagami."

A pause. "Oh shit, you did call. Great."

That confused him. "What –"

"Kyo was hoping you'd call. It'd been a few days, so he was getting worried."

"I don't have time to chat."

"Friendly as usual." He couldn't miss the sarcasm oozing over the other end. "Yagami, we do need to talk, so if you can cut out the asshole act for once, I'd appreciate it."

That got him to snort.

"Glad you find that funny. Look…Kyo wants to talk to you."

"You know I can't."

"We get that. We kinda figured something was up, so…Kyo asked if I could arrange something else. Something safer."

"What do you mean?" Did they both realize his situation? Just from that one meeting? From that single exchange of words? Were both of them that savvy?

"Since we understand you don't want to get caught, Kyo asked if I could set up a conference call. Your number won't show on his record. You'd be anonymous, except to those of us on the call. That'd be me and Kyo."

Tempting but… "You're sure it's safe, Nikaido?"

"No one's watching me, so yes. The number will be my usual conference call one."

"Your business line."

"Exactly. So nothing to fear. What do you say, Yagami? You in?"

"Kyo will be on?"

"Of course he'll be on. He's only been trying to reach you for the last month or so."

Iori winced. All the messages and videos on his phone. He still had them – couldn't bring himself to delete them. "What day? What time?" He was in now. There was no going back from this step taken. A roundabout to Saisyu's warning, engineered by Kyo and surprisingly enough, Benimaru Nikaido. He'd never expected the other member of Japan Team to help him but Nikaido's friendship with Kyo went back and he was grateful for that now.

Fear still curled cold and deep in his gut. He hoped he made the right decision.

That he wasn't about to face a blistering white-hot end afterwards.

"It's safer if we talk late at night. How does two days from now at three A.M. sound?"

Three in the morning? He was usually out by then, between the fatigue, the pain, the heat spikes, and his lack of energy. Three in the morning… Iori gritted his teeth. "I'll be there."

"Great. Here's the conference call details…you got a pen?"

That required a trip to the kitchen where he scrawled the details down on some random piece of junk mail with a leaking ballpoint pen. Folding the piece of cardstock, he slid it into his pocket. Just the short walk exhausted him and Iori felt the telltale signs of yet another heat wave coming through. His breath was short, his lungs burned, and his knees were going weak. "Fuck."

"You okay, Yagami?"

"I…" He needed to get back to his bedroom. He couldn't collapse here. "Nikaido…we have to…" He needed his medication before… "Talk later."

"Shit. If you need help –"

"Done enough." He gripped the phone in fingers that threatened to give on him. "I'll…" Goddammit. "I'll be there."

He exited the call, stumbled into his room and almost knocked the medication off the bed-stand as he lunged for it. He'd barely taken it before the heat wave ripped through him, tearing consciousness apart in a swelter that forced his graceless fall onto the bed. He heard something hit the floor – two, perhaps? – before darkness closed in on him.

_I need to see Kyo. I have to, before…_

Then all was silence.


	14. Kyo

He usually didn't like to read. He found studying boring, which was why his parents despaired of him ever graduating high school and besides poetry, Kyo found words in a book bland. But now because of Iori's predicament, he was inside the ancient family archives, buried elbow deep in old manuscripts. Not all of them he understood – the characters were mostly _kanji_ and some obscure – but the ones he could figure out, he went through line by line.

His father had done something drastic to Iori and until he knew what it was, he wasn't going to rest easy. The other man was no longer healthy – was weak to the point of being unable to fight – and that meant it went beyond a simple confrontation. Of course, it also brought to mind another chilling fact, which Kyo wasn't able to hide from.

If his father hurt Iori and threatened him, then he knew where he lived.

The question was how? He understood Benimaru using his family connections to uncover information, to network and search but Saisyu Kusanagi? How did his dad come across Iori's address? It wasn't as if his former rival made that obvious, especially to those he didn't care to know or trust. Yagami preferred keeping to himself, so how did his father stumble across or deliberately seek out the other man's whereabouts?

And after finding him, why did he terrify Iori to the point where he was at now?

Kyo flipped the page, following the fluid lines of calligraphic characters down with his finger. Calligraphic script made everything harder to read and after a minute, Kyo considered the current bound volume a lost cause. Closing the book, he placed it back onto the dark ironwood bookshelf and glanced around. Their clan kept the archival room neat and clean without the smell of mold, rot, or dust and with its high ceiling and well-situated windows, the place was bright and airy. Ideal for studying or just going through the family's history.

It wasn't history he was looking for, though.

He was searching for techniques. For techniques from the founding of the clan.

Whatever his father did to Iori, it wasn't just a simple beatdown. Iori Yagami had lost enough weight to throw off Benimaru and that would've taken time. That meant a technique of some sort – something to sicken or debilitate him. It also wasn't something he knew or had ever been taught, which meant either it was advanced or…

Or being taught the technique carried its own responsibility. Its own weight.

Kyo tightened his jaw, grimness settling over him. It was possible that only heirs coming into their own after the death of the previous one learned the technique. Or the technique was only taught during times of great need. During a war, for instance. Or for a deadly confrontation with rivals, with one's enemies.

He used to be Iori's rival. That meant his father's rival was Yagami's old man.

Could it be possible that…

He got off the polished wooden floor and looked towards the direction of the entranceway. There were no guards here or hovering clansmen – why would there be? – which meant he was free to search around. All the manuscripts here were about the clan's long history, complete with a lengthy list of the founder, his family, and their families all leading up to the present. It made for boring reading and while he was occasionally interested in 'so-and-so great-great-grandfather being a badass warrior', it wasn't the reason why he came here.

So if the histories were here, then…

He didn't know the place well, having considered ancient text a waste of time but as he looked around, he noticed a small door off to the side. It was close in color and tone to the walls – constructed to be subtly present – and that was intriguing. Why was this even here?

Curious, Kyo strode towards it. Laid his hand on the door.

Felt it give a bit under pressure, as if something had unlatched. Moving his hand to the left, he slid the door open, revealing a narrow hallway leading straight in. There was light inside and as he stepped forward, he noticed a door to his left and one to his right. Squaring his shoulders, he closed the sliding door behind him and turned towards the leftmost door.

Opened that one and found himself in a small room, which was neatly packed with rolled scrolls and old manuscripts bound with cloth and sewn together with red thread. The shelves were full and the scrolls were tied with silk cord, four in each diamond-shaped space that the wooden structures created for them made. Kyo did a quick count. Twenty-four scrolls in this room. He glanced at the shelves. Triple that for the books.

He took a deep breath. Where to start?

Before he picked up a book or unfurled a scroll, he left and checked out the rightmost room. There were smaller cloth-bound manuscripts here and some thinner scrolls, tied with cord and sealed with carved stone beads. He saw the clan crest on the beads, delicate work with the corona in relief. It reminded him of something else but he put that aside for now.

He had something to find. He didn't have time to reminisce.

He didn't have time to waste. While he had every right to be here, if he disappeared for too long, someone was bound to notice and he didn't want questions asked. That meant he needed to open up a book or unroll a scroll and hope he was on the right track.

Kyo looked at the stone bead seals again with their significant symbol.

Picked up the closest one to hand and carefully undid it.

The scroll rolled open, crisp characters written in dark ink revealing its contents. A quick skim showed it wasn't about technique but about the craft of swordsmanship. They did have _samurai_ in the ancient family lines – just because one knew flame didn't mean it was wise to eschew steel. After tying and sealing the scroll back up, Kyo put it aside and reached for the next one. He tried to comprehend its contents but the script was hard to read and many of the characters were obscure. Yagami probably would've been able to read it – the other man had been given a classical education, after all.

It was the thought of Iori and his current dilemma that made him go for the next scroll. That one, too, wasn't what he was looking for. Time passed and Kyo decided he needed to look elsewhere. Perhaps he wasn't in the right spot. Maybe this room wasn't it. Maybe these scrolls weren't it.

Could it be one of the books? If so, how would he even begin to…

_Calm down. Calm down._ It was easy to become frazzled surrounded by all this paper and knowledge but freaking out wasn't the answer. If it wasn't in these sealed scrolls, then maybe it was in the room he'd left earlier. He should head back there and check. For all he knew, the scrolls were there to mislead. If that was the case…

_It's always the places you least expect, huh?_

As he stepped back out into the narrow corridor, he listened for any sounds outside. Nothing so far. Good. The last thing he needed was for someone to find him flipping through a book or reading a scroll of ancient techniques, wondering why he suddenly took an interest in an area he neglected for so long. He didn't want to explain anything, so fortune was on his side. Might as well take advantage of it and _search_.

He went back into the first room, did a quick scan of the shelves and scrolls and tackled the latter. It didn't take long before he realized the scrolls held rudimentary techniques – stuff he knew, was taught when he was younger – and put them aside, focusing his attention on the shelved volumes. After going through one row of books, he also slated them for idle perusal, if he chose to. So far, none of the material in either room dealt with what he was looking for.

Then again, maybe he was approaching this wrong.

_Where would the clan hide or store a record of ancient techniques? Where would Dad, Mom, or Uncle Hajime put…_

It had to be here. But he wasn't looking for something obvious.

_Think, Kyo. Sure, your clan goes back centuries but ancient techniques are only a handful. The strongest ones won't be scribed in large books or scrolls. It has to be something smaller, something…_

He gazed at the shelves again. Began to move the books aside on a hunch.

_You would only show this record to someone learning it. To someone initiated in it, which means…_

Which meant it was hidden and would only be known to someone seeking it. To someone shown its whereabouts.

_Older buildings have their secret passageways. I know Yagami told me his clan estate has hidden rooms and secret tunnels. Clandestine meetings and political exchanges, assassinations and assignations – all in those places. So if our estate has something like that…_

He moved the last book on the shelf to the counter below. Found himself staring at a small switch tucked flat and flush against the wooden panel of the bookshelf.

_Huh. Didn't quite expect it like that._

He pressed it. Heard the sound of contraptions moving behind the shelf. Kyo stepped away as the lower half of the shelf slid into the recesses of the wall, revealing a low tunnel. He hadn't known this existed. Why would he?

_Where does this lead?_

If he went in there and someone was to come in…

He took a deep breath. He wasn't going to find his answers playing it safe. Might as well find out where this led, if it took him to the source he sought. Ducking low, Kyo shifted himself into the tunnel on his belly. It was a crawl and that meant it wasn't hidden in the tunnel itself.

Which room or open space was this going to…

_Shit. I hope I'm doing the right thing here. If I get caught…_

He was the Kusanagi clan heir. In disgrace right now but still carrying the rank and title. No one had stripped him of it yet. He could always declare his rights – consider this as something he ought to know and why wasn't he privy to it?

Many ways to spin things to his advantage, if he so chose to.

Yagami found ways to turn a situation to his advantage. Perhaps it was time for him to do the same. He'd always taken things for granted – had it handed to him, easy and painless. But now he had to fight to reunite them and…

His days of easy living were done. Had been since that day a couple months ago.

Was he only realizing it now?

After shuffling through the tunnel, Kyo stopped. Craned his head forward. He heard voices. Not in here. Beyond. _That sounds like…_ It sounded like his dad. His dad and his uncle? What?

Moving closer to a wooden panel – one step removed from those voices – Kyo pressed his ear against it and listened. From here, while he couldn't hear all – the barrier made certain sounds unclear – he was able to get the gist of the conversation.

Uncle Hajime first. "You know your son's been having late night calls."

"I checked the numbers. It's his friend, Nikaido-san. No worries there."

"I'd still check it out. Make sure he's not up to something."

_Oh shit. Laugh it off, Dad. Don't want you prying into…_

"You worry too much, Hajime."

"My nephew's been acting up over this boy. How can you be sure he's obedient now?"

"Because he knows the clan sees any further action on his part as treason."

He heard his uncle suck on his teeth – a habit Kyo abhorred. "Harsh, brother."

"Necessary. He needs to remember who he is. Not even a clan heir is free from the clan's judgment."

Something was said but Kyo couldn't hear it. "…elopement of the Yagami heir and one of the Kusanagi women."

"Inexcusable but understandable. At least it wasn't our heir back then."

"Hasn't happened since."

"No. She was executed. An ignominious end. The Yagami heir was killed a month later."

"Does your son know this story?"

"He does not. You should tell him, Hajime. Make it clear to him."

"I shall." A pause. Something else mentioned but muddled. Damn the wood panel! "And the boy? The one you put out of the way?"

"No contact. Seems like my warning has taken hold."

"Not like he can protest. Not with what you did to him."

"He shouldn't have meddled. Try to steal my son away." Faint sounds of objects being shifted. Was that perhaps the red paste pot? "Kyo thinks nothing of it. The boy is an enemy, whether he believes it or not."

"He's young. We all tend to lust at his age."

"He has a girlfriend. No excuses for him, Hajime."

"None whatsoever. Just offering a plausible reason for his unwise actions."

"If he wanted a boy, he could've chosen some other. Why the Yagami heir?"

A sound. Kyo wasn't sure if something had moved or if his uncle had shrugged. "I told you. He's young. Young and stupid. He'll awake from this and look back and laugh. He'll move on. Saisyu, your son knows better than to make the clan astir. That'll be bad for him. And for the Yagami heir."

"That boy won't last too long, anyway."

_What?_

"Ah. His father…"

"His father barely lasted six months. Of course, we later understood the blood curse kicked in as well. If the boy outlasts his father, it'll be a miracle."

"You could've killed him."

"No need to give the warning, then."

Silence. "I would've killed him, brother. He took what did not belong to him."

"Let him live in fear for however long he can endure."

Kyo clenched his teeth, anger boiling. His father _did_ do something to Iori! Something that shortened his life span – already short enough – and it was serious enough to cause Iori harm. Was the other man going to die? That can't be! He hadn't even seen him yet. Not since that day when all he got was radio silence and now he knew why. Yagami was tougher than that – he wouldn't just drop dead, would he?

"Where's your son now?"

"In the archival building. Curious but maybe he's finally taking some interest in our clan's written history."

"Unlikely. I'll head over there myself. See what he's up to."

"You worry too much."

"Better safe than sorry. My nephew has shown poor judgment lately."

"I'm sure it's nothing but all right. Whatever you think best, Hajime."

"I'll see you later, brother."

The sound of the _shoji_ door sliding open and then shut. His cue to leave. To back the hell out of this tunnel, dust off, restore the books and get the hell into the main room before Uncle Hajime found him snooping. He'd thought his father a hardass; his uncle was worse. His father had left Iori alive but in dire condition. Uncle Hajime would've just murdered him. No way was he getting caught red-handed by his uncle; he dreaded the expression on the older man's face.

Scooting backwards was harder – _how long did it take from his father's study to here?_ – and he was sure he tracked dust and smeared it all over his shirt. Nothing he could do about it. Just move, move, move! When he finally cleared the tunnel, he shot up onto his feet – almost smashing his head against the sharp edge of the bookshelf counter – and slapped the switch. The lower part slid shut, leaving him back in a regular room with books and scrolls.

He breathed hard. He wasn't done yet.

Snatching the bound volumes, he slammed them back onto the shelf, glanced around and quickly scooped the scrolls up. Placed them back where they belonged. Looked down at himself, grimaced, and did the best he could to clean himself. Then counted down in his head and bolted out the room and into the narrow corridor.

Nothing outside yet.

_Goddammit, move! You can't get caught here!_

He worked the mechanism from inside, opened the sliding door, and almost spilled into the main room. He was breathing too hard, probably looked a mess, which meant if Uncle Hajime saw him…

Kyo turned, booking it for the main entrance.

If he could beat his uncle there, head for his room…

There!

He was out and around the building, nestled in the nearby foliage when he heard the steady footfalls that characterized his uncle. A stalwart member of the clan. Saisyu Kusanagi's brother was trustworthy, unshakable, and not a man to subvert. One of his guardians.

"Kyo? You here?"

_Fuck. If he'd seen me in there like this…_

Moving now would be unwise. There were windows and he'd make a lot of sound. He just hoped his uncle satisfied his curiosity and would leave. Would leave and not head straight for _his_ room, because then he'd be fucked.

The sound of footsteps in the open. The sound of them receding.

Good.

Kyo waited for a moment and then moved. He made it back to his room without incident – there was no clansman by his door when he returned (fortune still with him) – and promptly removed his shirt and pants. Kicked them under the bed and changed his clothes. Brushed his hair. Wiped off his face, forearms, and hands. Forced himself to calm down, to control his breathing. Treat it like a cooldown after practice, after sparring.

It was important no one knew. It was important he didn't give them a reason to suspect.

But he had to be careful now. His uncle was suspicious.

It was up to him to tread with caution. Even Benimaru's calls were seen in a different light. That meant…that meant he had to warn Benimaru. That he was now being monitored for the timing of his calls as well. If only…if only his clan wasn't so…

Kyo threw himself onto his bed, arms folded under his head.

Fuck.

Things were a lot simpler a few months back.

* * *

He got the text message later, giving him the details on the arranged conference call. The timing was dangerous in light of what he now knew. If they got caught…

But Iori was going to be on the call and that was bold. He couldn't afford to pass it up.

He texted Benimaru back, confirming the call from his end.

Tomorrow at three in the morning.

Kyo looked at the ceiling of his room, closed his eyes, and hoped.

He hoped Yagami would still be there – whatever of him survived his father's onslaught, was still fighting to make his way to him. Because they were both fighters in body and soul and just because the body quit didn't mean the soul did.

_A poetic line. Better kept to myself, Yagami would say._

Three in the morning. He'd be there.


	15. Iori

Two fifty-eight in the morning.

Iori pressed the numbers on his phone's screen, punching into the conference call's direct line. His hands shook, his wrists ached and he was running on an unhealthy dose of caffeine but hell if he was going to miss this opportunity. Since he didn't want to fall asleep in bed, he hauled his ass out to his small eat-in kitchen, kicked a seat aside, and slumped down into it. His T-shirt was already damp and he was perspiring. That was what the bottle of water next to him was for.

Two fifty-nine.

He entered the conference call admittance code and waited. He'd taken the strongest painkiller and his breathing medication beforehand, hoping to allay any possible symptoms. Rare for him, he'd also eaten well tonight – forced down some pork croquettes and even some chicken – and managed to keep it down. His morning and afternoon were uneventful, mostly time spent sleeping. He hoped it counterbalanced what he was doing now – that he wouldn't suffer badly for it tomorrow.

He was exhausted but he was going to make this call. It'd been over a month…

Three in the morning.

There were two sounds ringing in – people entering – and Iori gripped his phone tight, mouth dry. After two seconds, he heard the very familiar voices of the other two men announcing their arrival into the call.

"Benimaru here."

"Hey, Beni. Kyo here."

"Nice! You made it! Is Yagami here?"

"Dunno. Yagami, you here?"

Hearing Kyo's voice live after so long hit Iori like a blow to the gut. It was as if he'd been robbed of speech after listening to the other man talk. Sweat trickled down his face. He ignored it. His mouth was drier, if that was possible. His apartment was eerily quiet.

"You sure he confirmed, Beni?"

"Yeah. He did. Maybe he's late?"

"Yagami? He's punctual."

"Hmmm…"

The more he heard Kyo's voice, the deeper the ache was. He just wanted him here but that was hoping for too much, wasn't it? After what befell him, he learned to keep his expectations low. He didn't want to get hurt again by denial of his wants and desires. Closing his eyes, he took a deep breath – the muscle around his healing sternum tugging – and spoke. "I'm here."

He didn't even have to say his name. Kyo knew his voice.

"Yagami?"

"Yeah." He opened his eyes and gazed down at the floor by the table. "It's me."

"Were you waiting long?"

"No."

A brief pause. "That's good." Then, Kyo's tone changed and Iori tensed. "Beni, if I start going 'One, two, three', stay on the line and talk. Yagami, if that happens, that's your cue to leave. You don't need to leave the call but mute your phone or something. There's still some suspicion aimed my way."

"Shit. What's going on now?" Nikaido from his end, tone concerned. "Is this even safe for you?"

"My uncle's been monitoring my calls. Noticed the late nights. Might be serious."

"Might be? Should we even be on?"

"Hell yeah we should. I haven't spoken to him in…"

"It's been over a month." Iori heard the words leave his mouth, flat and suppressing pain. "We can't…we can't let this go by."

"Yagami's right. Beni, just stay on – just in case."

Nikaido sighed over the line. "Okay. But give me the warning once you suspect something. Yagami mightn't have much time to remove himself if –"

"Know that. Will let you know in case. Hope I don't have to."

"Then I'll hang in the background. Let you two talk."

With that, Benimaru Nikaido fell silent. It was just him and Kyo now, sharing a connection that had been severed since that fateful day a couple months ago. Iori reached for the bottle of water and took a drink. His throat was dry. It ached too.

"Yagami." Kyo speaking, his tone gentle. "How are you holding up?"

Not how was he doing or was he doing okay. Kyo knew – he knew it'd been rough for him – and refrained from asking the most useless of questions. Iori fought off the sudden impulse to laugh, for it'd be bitter and he didn't want Kyo to hear that. "I'm surviving."

"Just that? Surviving?"

"It's not exactly living, Kyo. Not like this."

Silence.

Iori held the phone against his ear. Waited.

"Miss you, Yagami."

His throat ached even more. He swallowed and then blinked. He wasn't going to cry.

"I wanted to see if you were okay that day. You never got back, so…"

"I wouldn't…" He closed his eyes to hold back the wet heat building up behind them. "I wouldn't have been there."

"Is it okay if I ask? Or will that –"

"I was in the hospital. You wouldn't have gotten a hold of me."

He thought he heard Kyo muttering something under his breath. Nikaido, thankfully, maintained his silence. "Did my father hurt you, Yagami?"

Now he went silent.

"Yagami?"

If he confirmed it, then Kyo was bound to lose his temper. That…could go wrong in so many ways. Either Kyo would confront his old man and then Saisyu would know – he was as good as dead then – or Kyo would do something rash and have it backfire on all of them. Or, he could raise his voice in the dead of night and alert someone. Or worse, set his face against the clan and become anathema to them. If that happened…

Iori didn't say anything.

"Yagami, you still here?"

"Yeah."

"I just want to know –"

"I was in the hospital. That's all you need to know." Kyo didn't need to know the terrible details of that afternoon. He'd told Saisyu as much before his life began its abrupt and cruel turn. Nikaido was here as well – he didn't need to know, since it didn't concern him. What happened to him – to Iori Yagami – on that day was meant for him alone. No one else needed to bear that burden. Only him. Only he and Saisyu Kusanagi knew.

It wasn't something he wanted to share.

"Then he did hurt you. Bad enough to put you in the hospital. How long, Yagami?"

This also wasn't a detail he wanted to give.

"Long enough."

Over the phone, he heard Kyo breathing heavy through his nose like a mad bull. "Beni told me you lost weight. Can't walk straight. Can't breathe easy."

"You wouldn't recognize me."

"I don't believe that, Yagami. Not after this long."

Six months they'd been together and Kyo was _this_ sure? After his ordeal, after the month-long stay in the hospital, _he_ began to doubt the face in the mirror. To doubt his own frame as it was continuously ravaged by the brutal aftereffects of Saisyu's action. If he was questioning his own appearance and Nikaido did the same, then how could Kyo be so sure that he'd know him by sight? It'd been over a month!

"Kyo, you don't know. Don't assume."

Silence drew down and fell in between them.

Nikaido, if he was listening, also didn't say anything.

After a long minute, Kyo spoke. "I want to see you, Yagami."

Iori breathed lightly through his nose and clenched his teeth. He wasn't going to cry. "That…mightn't be possible."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm not even supposed to be talking to you." The threat that hovered over his life was still there, was still very much actionable. "I can't even approach you."

"Did my dad say that?"

Iori didn't respond.

"He did, didn't he?" Behind Kyo's voice, he heard suppressed rage. "Yagami, it works the other way, then. _I_ can approach you."

"Are you mad?" If Saisyu was hellbent on keeping Kyo away from him, there was no fucking chance for Kyo to make that happen. Not without serious consequences. "Kyo, you'll set the entire clan against you! If you do that –"

"I should've been there. Maybe you wouldn't be…"

Iori opened his eyes and blinked a few times. His cheeks were wet. "And then what, Kyo? Fight your old man? Kill him? For me? You know what you would've done –"

"At least you'd have a fighting chance. He didn't give you much of one, it seems."

"I didn't want to fight him. I didn't."

"You should've."

"And if I killed him? Or injured him? Kyo, your clan would've called for blood vengeance. You'd have to lead it. Against me. It'd destroy you."

Kyo was quiet over the other end.

"I didn't want to do that to you."

"So you…"

"He knew, Kyo. I don't think it would've made much of a difference."

"It might've, if I was there."

Iori took a shaky breath. "It's done, Kyo." There was the weight of finality behind his words, behind his tone. "There's nothing you can do about it."

"And you? Are you fighting it, Yagami? Whatever it is my dad did to you."

If he was by himself, completely offline and disconnected from the world, he'd weep. "I'm trying." It felt like an uphill battle, against insurmountable odds – a battle he might lose – and the most he could give was his desperate attempt to stave off the inevitable, whenever it might come. Iori was sure it would – it just depended when.

"Yagami," Kyo said, tone too gentle, "I need to see you."

"I…" He wanted to as well but the strictures bound him like a vise. "It's too dangerous, Kyo."

"I know you want to as well. You're never one to say those thoughts, though."

Intimate and private and Nikaido was listening. Iori cleared his throat, which still ached. "You can't know I'm there."

"What? Why?"

"Because if it's discovered we set it up, then…"

"Did my father threaten to kill you? Is that why you're hesitating?"

He let his silence speak for him.

"Yagami…" Kyo sounded at a loss for words. "I won't let him."

"That's not up to you."

Brutal and blunt, yet true. He'd lived with that knowledge for so long now that it was burnt into his soul, etched into his mind. If Saisyu Kusanagi wanted him dead, it wasn't for Kyo to know. That'd been his understanding of the warning Saisyu imposed on him. A complication, Kyo knowing. Better to get it done and over with by other members of the clan. Make it seem like he just disappeared or possibly moved away. No one needed to know it was murder.

With that, Kyo would just have to move on. Iori knew he could.

But at this point, it seemed neither one of them was ready to do so.

Hence, this call.

"My dad doesn't dictate my life. He doesn't dictate yours."

"Oh?" Sharpness springing out against pain – his natural defense. "Why the secrecy? The tip to Nikaido? Why aren't you here with me if he's not doing that?"

"Yagami –"

"You're barred to me, Kyo. Because of your clan. Your old man."

"You're not –"

"He has me by the balls. What don't you get?"

Kyo went quiet over the other end, the silence extending. Iori wiped the side of his face – sweat pouring down – and took another drink from the water bottle. The caffeinated high was wearing off and he was wrung out, mentally and physically. All the hurt was coming through, barbed and biting, and bitterness with it. All of it suppressed over the last month and Iori couldn't stop himself, couldn't stop it from changing the entire tone of the conversation.

He took the phone away from his ear. Looked at the time.

Fifteen minutes had passed since they started talking.

It felt like much longer.

"Yagami…" Kyo speaking, voice faintly discernable. "Don't give up."

He wanted to laugh at that but knew what would happen the moment he did. Instead, he put the phone back in its regular position and stared ahead at the blank undecorated wall before him. When he replied, his voice was steady and his volume low. "You don't know what it's like."

"I don't. Will you be all right?"

"I might not make it past this month."

"What do you mean?"

"Nikaido told you I'm losing weight. I still am."

"How much are you talking, Yagami?" A frisson of alarm in the other's voice.

"I'm down to sixty-seven kilos, Kyo." He waited, letting that fact sink in.

A momentary silence. "You've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not."

"Yagami," Kyo said and Iori heard desperation coloring his tone, "you have to hold on. You can't –"

He sighed. His hair curtained his face, damp and shielding his view like it always did. "I'm trying, Kyo. Didn't I tell you before?"

"Then keep trying. You can't die like –"

"I don't want to but it's hard. Whatever your old man did, it's eating away at me. I might not be able to sustain myself for long."

"I…" Another pause. "I overheard my dad and uncle speaking. They said your dad lasted close to six months."

Iori let out a derisive bark of laughter. His family history coming back again, as always. "And you believe I have the same odds?"

"You're tougher than your father, Yagami."

"My old man fed on hatred. He only lived so long because he died hating. You see me doing the same?"

"You're better than him. You can live past that."

"Tell my body that. It might have other thoughts."

Into this uneasiness, Nikaido piped up, evidently interested in something they said. "Kyo, how'd you overhear your dad and uncle?"

"I was trying to find out what my dad did to Yagami." A slight hesitation. "Don't worry, Yagami. Nothing happened."

"Yet." Just what the hell was Kyo doing? Was he endangering himself?

"Went to the clan archives, dug around. I think he used a technique on Yagami. One I have no idea about."

"How'd you guess?" Kyo couldn't have gleaned that possibility from just the few clues he had. That was impossible. At least to him it was.

"Your weight loss in so short a time. Your sweating. Your inability to walk straight."

"And from that you –"

"Yeah. Because a beating won't do that to you."

Iori closed his mouth. Leaned back against his chair and closed his eyes.

"So…you went digging around and what?"

"Beni, you hear of old estates having secret passages? Like the really ancient houses?"

"Yeah. You mean the Kusanagi estate has them?"

"I found one. In the archival building. I was looking for an ancient techniques scroll. Think it might be a book now and a small one at that."

"And then what?"

"There was a passageway – more like a tunnel – leading from the building to where my father's study is. Only there was a panel blocking the way."

"Kyo…" Nikaido's tone was serious and weighted with concern. "If they knew you were there…"

His lover laughed over the phone, brief and without mirth. "They didn't."

"And then?"

"I heard them talking. About me. About Yagami. About his father. About the clan."

"And that's how you overheard about my old man?" Iori said, cutting into the conversation. "About how long he survived?"

"Yeah."

"The blood curse took him. That's what we believe."

"Sounded like a combination from what I heard."

"So you believe I have a chance."

"Unless you get as unlucky as him," and here, Iori felt Kyo's pause over the line, as though doing so would allay any further misfortune, "I think you can. I need to see you, Yagami. It'll be easier, then."

With Kyo beside him. That was what he wanted but the possibility seemed so…

"I want that, too."

The question was how?

"Kyo," Nikaido said in the serene silence that followed, "how are you gonna do that? Don't you have guardians?"

"Yeah, I…" A sudden stop. "One, two, three, Beni. Go."

Immediately, Iori yanked the phone from his ear and hit the mute button on his screen display. Put the phone down on the table and stared at it, trembling. Fortunately, Nikaido had started a conversation, as though he'd been the only one talking to Kyo the whole time. He hoped, fervently, that whoever was encroaching hadn't heard the earlier parts of their discussion.

It was the difference between life and death for him.

"So, you want me in the Japan Team again –"

"Wait, Beni." A heavy silence. "What do you want, Uncle Hajime?"

Iori listened. Was this the uncle Kyo mentioned? Was he someone else he needed to watch out for?

He couldn't hear what the uncle said, but he heard Kyo clearly. "Just talking to Benimaru Nikaido. My friend. Any problem with that?"

_Shit. Don't get defensive. He'll sense that. Know something's up._

Another moment of agonizing silence. "Yeah, I know it's late. He sometimes works all day. Can only talk around this time. No, you can't have my phone, uncle. I'll put it on speaker, though."

_Nikaido, you better sell this and sell it well! Goddammit!_

"This is Nikaido-san. Who am I talking to?"

A brief lull. It drove Iori mad missing out on the pertinent other half of the conversation. Then, Nikaido spoke, confident and unshaken. "Nice to meet you. Yeah. Kyo and I were just going over plans for the tournament."

Silence.

"I had a busy schedule. And well, I decided why not? Kyo picked up, so yeah."

Good. Nikaido sounded natural. Was being natural. Iori might've severely underestimated the other man. He wasn't going to do that again.

He heard something this time. Not so much words but something had been said.

"We'll wrap up soon. Right, Kyo?"

"Yeah. We will."

Another faint sound in the background – it seemed to carry the mild tones of admonishment. Iori thought the voice was gruff and strict. Were most of the Kusanagis like that? How had Kyo ever survived among these people?

"Understood, Uncle Hajime. I know it's almost five. I'll be done soon."

Several minutes of silence stretched tight and nervous, bleeding over into his place, as though the atmosphere seeped through his phone. Iori took a hurried drink of water, throat dry and sore. One, two, three. That was how Kyo counted. One, two, three. It was almost a mantra – something to keep him from freaking out in his kitchen.

After a while, Nikaido broke the silence. "Uh, we in the clear?"

"Yeah."

"Shit. Good thing you heard him."

"I heard something. Looks like he just missed the most damning part."

"If he heard you saying Yagami's name –"

"I know." A quiet second. "Yagami, you still there? It's safe now."

Iori picked his phone back up, unmuted it, and placed it next to his ear. "Are you sure, Kyo?"

"Very. I watched him leave."

"He's not hanging outside eavesdropping, is he?"

"No. I made sure of that."

He sighed in relief, the strain of the moment passing. He was tired but the conversation filled a void that he carried within him for so long. "Is there any way for us to meet, Kyo? Or at least see each other?"

"I don't want to get you killed."

"I can see you from a distance."

"If I knew you were there, I'd close that distance, Yagami."

He wasn't going to cry. "Yeah. You would do that."

"Maybe Beni and you can figure something out. Would that be okay, Beni?"

"Yeah. Just don't be an asshole, Yagami."

He did laugh this time, a bark that also had the shadow of tears behind it. "You're asking too much, Nikaido."

"Hey, I can ask, right?"

"Beni, I'll talk to you tomorrow or whenever you're free. Yagami, we'll be in touch."

If he could reach out and touch Kyo through the phone, he would, as sentimental as that was. "I'm still trying, Kyo."

"Good. Do. I don't want to lose you."

"I'm not going down that easily."

"Sleep well, Yagami." A pause. "You too, Beni."

"I'll get my beauty sleep. Good night, Kyo."

"Good night, Beni."

"Glad you two were able to talk. Man, you guys are for real. Didn't think that was possible."

"That's what we thought."

Iori smiled, although he knew neither Kyo nor Nikaido could see it. "It surprised us, too."

"Surprised?" He heard Kyo's teasing tone. "More like shocked."

"Ha!"

"Okay, you two. I'm going to sleep."

"See ya, Beni."

With that, it was just the two of them.

"Wait for me, Yagami."

"I'm not going anywhere."

"That's good. Hang in there. We'll make it through."

"Watch yourself, Kyo."

"And here I thought it was just me looking out for you. I'll be careful."

"Do. I don't want to lose you."

"Heh, that's a bit too close, eh? Good night, Yagami."

"You too, Kyo."

And then, Kyo was out.

Iori left the conference call, turned his phone off, and stared at the wall. He was tired but maybe he'd sleep better tonight. Better than he had the previous nights for the past month or so. Maybe he wouldn't have nightmares tonight. He'd spoken to Kyo. Heard his voice again after so long with its nuances that a mere video recording couldn't capture. He just might see him again.

Might. The possibility was there.

He wasn't going to die. Not like a dog. Not pathetically.

Kyo was here. Would be.

Iori closed his eyes. Let the tears fall but for once, it wasn't out of misery.

_I'll be here, Kyo. You'll find me._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It was so cathartic writing this chapter. It needed to happen.
> 
> So according to official SNK stats on Iori, his weight is 76 kilograms (168 lbs). The guy is six foot, so he's already underweight even with all that muscle. Although some additional research later showed that 168 lbs. is decent weight at his height, I keep thinking he should be heavier. At this time, he is 67 kilograms, which is 148 lbs., which means he is in a serious health crisis (aside from everything else) and it will only worsen if he continues losing more weight. This is something he is trying to prevent at all costs.


	16. Kyo

Iori's voice resonated in his head. Broke his heart. He'd never heard the other man like that before – never in such despair, with resignation behind the melancholy and the deep-seated grief lingering in his tone. His volume had been low, Kyo recalled, except for the times when he'd raised it in alarm. There was also the silence. The pervasive silence – the times when he wasn't sure if Yagami was still on the other line. The times when Yagami never directly answered his questions.

Somehow, his father had managed to terrify Iori into forced acquiesce.

He may never know exactly how.

Iori didn't want to tell him. There was a technique involved, however. Yagami had confirmed that much. But the details weren't permitted to him, and Iori didn't want him to go against his clan. Both clans didn't forgive betrayal – punishment was harsh and there were no amends to make – so while Yagami suffered alone, he was also worried about him. Iori knew him – knew what he was capable of when enraged.

So did Kyo.

It was the reason why he was in the training hall going through his forms, working off his frustration and rage through exercise. Now was not a good time to talk to his father or even his uncle. Particularly his uncle. He had his own suspicions that Uncle Hajime suspected something, and giving his thoughts validation was the last thing he wanted to do. No. Best play it safe and practice, channeling fury into fighting and bettering his skills.

No telling if he would need them.

He wanted to see Iori but Benimaru would sort that out with the other man.

He also had Yuki's date in a few weeks.

_You have to choose, Kyo. You can't leave both of them like this._

But the choice was hard. Whoever he chose, the other would be left aside. He didn't want to do that to Yuki. Faithful Yuki, who was always waiting for him. But at this juncture, neither could he do that to Iori, who was in desperate need and yearned to see him. Iori Yagami had lived his whole life around his and if he shunted him aside for Yuki…

Kinder to just cut his throat then.

Kyo couldn't do that to him. Wouldn't.

That didn't mean he'd decided, though. He was trapped between two impossible choices and didn't know which way to go. There was no easy solution for him here.

_You need to decide. No one's gonna do it for you._

His mother had left it in his hands – he was an adult, after all and this was a quandary of his own making. If he hadn't gotten involved with Iori, then this struggle would be nonexistent. But if he'd gotten Iori to that point of realization and then just left him…

Wouldn't that have been crueler?

Better for the other to continue hating than have love rejected.

Kyo couldn't do that to him. Hadn't.

So here they were, separated and both of them trying to cross that divide made by his father. Kyo threw a punch and then followed up with another, arms straight but limber and his feet shifting to accompany his movement across the polished wood floor. His movements were precise and decisive, unlike the tangle of thoughts in his mind. Each blow would hit, would wound, would leave an opponent reeling or gasping at his feet for breath. He could do that to people; problems couldn't be resolved in the same way. If they could, he and Iori would've done it by now.

Sixty-seven kilos, and Iori said he was still losing weight.

Kyo tried and couldn't even imagine what he looked like now. With everything else, could Iori still be considered a fighter? Or was that path barred to him as well?

Would he be able to stand before long? Or was death a very real possibility?

Iori believed it to be so. _"I might not make it past this month."_

Kyo hadn't wanted to believe that. Still didn't want to but what he wanted and the reality were two very different things. If Iori couldn't sustain himself, couldn't regain any weight, then…

_He'd still die from the blood curse. You know that._

That gave them time, though! A chance to…a chance for Iori to _live_.

What the hell had his father done to shift his death date so close?

And why? All because Iori fell for him? He'd done the same! Why was Iori punished so brutally, and he not even a member of the Kusanagi clan?

Kyo stopped in the middle of a transition. Lowered his arms.

_Because he's not a member of my clan. If he was, this wouldn't even be an issue. But because he's not…_

Uncle Hajime's words coming back to him. _"He took what did not belong to him."_

As though he was a possession, unable to make his own choices. Iori didn't take; Kyo himself had freely given, had permitted the relationship to happen. None of it was Yagami's fault; yet, that was how the clan (except him and his mom) saw it. So, Iori was brutally put in his place and now, Kyo found himself in a hard place while his lover faced the possibility of a slow lingering death alone.

He couldn't – _wouldn't_ – permit that to happen.

_So what are you going to do about it, Kyo? Are you all talk and no action? What are_ _you_ _gonna do?_

Iori Yagami had and was still continuing to pay for a choice _he'd_ made. That was unfair. Kyo wasn't going to sit here and wait for fortune to fall into the right places – to make right all the wrongs, because that was a child's fantasy. He couldn't rely on his mom – it was his problem, not hers. Benimaru was the go-between but he could only do so much. Yagami was fighting to survive, with enough burdens to bear, and Kyo didn't want to put any more on him. In the end, trapped though he was, he still had more options than Yagami did and he was the heir, was he not?

Why not put that to use?

Grabbing his towel, wiping the sweat off his face and flinging the towel over his shoulder, Kyo headed out of the training hall. The clansman's expression was inscrutable. Kyo only gave him a mere glance and continued towards his room, passing by all the screened paper walls facing the courtyard. He still had Yagami's spare key, secured in a place that only he knew. Souji was in Tokyo – had moved there shortly after relinquishing his position as heir years ago – but his other cousin, Aoi…was she still around?

Did she know about his disgrace? Would she even care?

Come to think of it, Aoi was a bit of a rebel as well.

_Do I have her phone number? I don't usually call my cousins._

Well, if he didn't, maybe his mom would know.

He wasn't allowed his bike but Aoi was a biker. Could possibly even have a spare helmet.

Could she do him a favor?

Most importantly, would his dad trust her with him? She was family, after all.

_Not everyone in the clan is in opposition to me. Or to Yagami. Maybe she's another one. Should've considered her sooner. Then again…_

Then again, for the past few weeks, everything was a blur of rage and disbelief and shock and he didn't know who his allies were. He couldn't just trust anyone. He didn't know who sided with him or would rat him out to his dad and uncle. And so, Kyo treaded with caution and suspicion – feelings that he never associated with his clan before. If Aoi would be willing to help him, then…

_If you can do this, Kyo, and not get Yagami killed…_

Well, he'd cross that bridge when he got to it.

Benimaru could continue his arrangements with Yagami.

Kyo had more immediate plans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aoi Kusanagi now enters the story. She's always been a side character even in KoF: Kyo (the game where she first shows up, I believe), but since I'm delving into the Kusanagi clan, why not bring her in? She doesn't seem to toe the line – did request Orochi-tainted flames, which Shermie gave to her – so she might be interesting here.
> 
> Also, she is a biker. Kyo needs transport. Let's see how this pans out.


	17. Iori

It'd been little over a week before an envelope stuffed with _yen_ bills arrived in his box. The pristine front bore the sender name Kenji Wakamatsu, the official stamp of the organization backing the band he was once with, and addressed to recipient Iori Yagami with his residential address listed. Just the sight of the band manager's name pained him; Iori closed the envelope and put it on the table. Scooping up the junk mail, he tossed them into the recyclable paper bin and shoved that aside with his foot. It wasn't time for his neighborhood's garbage collection yet, but he felt better today and decided to use the hours he had to review some unpaid bills.

One of them was his rent payment for last month. He'd been delinquent on that, but his landlord understood his current condition – unlike Wakamatsu – and gave him until the end of this month to pay it in full. Since he wasn't sure if he'd still be around by then – his body resisted all attempts to keep weight on – Iori made a note in his phone to take care of this soon.

There were bills for utilities as well. Those, he could pay off with his credit card or simply have a convenience store do it for him. That meant, though, taking a trip outside and with his deterioration, the likelihood of him passing out in public was high. He didn't want to go through that again and yet…he wanted to see Kyo. That meant leaving his apartment, taking the train, and heading towards a destination where he could see the other but Kyo couldn't see him.

Another pain – this one, sharp anguish.

He meant to keep Kyo safe. If Saisyu was capable of this, he was able to do so much more.

The clans were implacable when it came to their regulations. Had his father still been alive, Iori wouldn't have to worry about all this. Blood on sheets, staining them red. Crimson spatters on the floor. Wetness on pale flesh growing cold. He'd be dead and his father would go after the Kusanagi clan, using his death as a pretext to continue their ancient feud. Of course, his father would only be able to do that if the blood curse didn't exist. If he wasn't struck down and devastated by Saisyu Kusanagi's mysterious technique.

If the Yasakani hadn't changed who they were and declared blood feud against their ally, none of this would've happened.

But then he wouldn't be Iori Yagami and he'd never know Kyo Kusanagi.

It wouldn't be the same. Not at all.

Iori closed his eyes and rubbed the bridge of his nose with the tips of his fingers. He exhaled and winced, feeling the muscles in his chest tugging hard. His ankles were sore today and so were his wrists. The rings on his finger were heavy – he'd need to wear them around his neck soon – and the reminder that Kyo's gift was there calmed him a bit.

But only a bit.

If the Kusanagi clan was anything like his own, Kyo's staunch refusal to bend to his father's will would force Saisyu's hand. For a son to disrespect his father – for the _heir_ to flout the regulations – without consequences would cause the head patriarch to lose face. That wouldn't be tolerated for long. Insolent and disobedient heirs in his family bloodline had been cut off – with one actually killed – leaving behind children raised by unmarried female relatives or men not yet dying of the blood curse.

He wasn't sure how the Kusanagi clan did it but it couldn't have been any different.

Flagrant disobedience was met with severity. Brazenness cut down before it could take root.

Kyo sneaking around his family estate, seeking out what was hidden. Kyo cared but Kyo was rash. The tunnel led from the Kusanagi archives to his father's study, Kyo had said. Iori knew upon hearing that where Kyo could've gone next. There would be no other place to keep a book of ancient techniques, made known only to one.

If there was a book, it'd be with Saisyu Kusanagi.

Iori rubbed the bridge of his nose again, the bone hard against his thinning fingers.

He was worried. They'd almost been caught that time.

_Kyo_ had almost been caught that time, if not for his keen ears. If that'd happened and the truth had come out, Iori didn't have to imagine the consequences. Kyo would lose most of his privileges; Nikaido would no longer be welcome at the Kusanagi home, and he'd be dead before noon. The clan would wrap up matters quickly, suppress whatever information they could from leaking out, and move on.

Life would continue. That was just the way it was. That was how it always was.

Life continued for him, didn't it? Even the way he was now.

Iori lowered his hand and fidgeted with the rings on his finger, twisting them around. Kyo was always at the forefront of his thoughts and even more so now with him taking calculated risks. It made him nervous, knowing Saisyu and Kyo's uncle – Hajime, was it? – kept watch over him like hawks. If Kyo slipped up even once…

Being the heir wouldn't protect him. He'd be made an example of – a lesson for posterity.

He was sure it'd hurt Saisyu to exact that kind of penalty on his son but the clan came first. That was how he was taught; that was how Kyo was taught. They'd followed that for years – hated each other because of it – and then rejected it by finding common ground. By finding each other. By looking past the familial hatreds and prejudices and by doing so, cast their clans' ironclad rule aside. However, that was only them. They'd known that; hence, keeping their relationship a secret.

He hadn't expected to be nearly killed that afternoon.

He hadn't expected Saisyu Kusanagi to be the one delivering that unforgettable message.

Heat in his veins and fire in his lungs.

_I had six months. I should be grateful even for that._

He was looking at less than three weeks. Maybe not even that, if he couldn't stop losing weight. He hadn't eaten today – no appetite – and wondered how soon it'd be before he couldn't get out of bed. All his future medical treatments for his burns – pointless. Iori felt his death looming, incipient and thought back to what Kyo told him.

His old man had lived for close to six months afterwards.

Kyo believed he could do the same or better.

Iori gazed down at his hand, at the skin and bones it was becoming. He was trying; yet, his efforts were for naught. Whatever he gained, he lost just as quickly. He wasn't going to have six months. Or even three.

He wasn't like his old man. He wasn't that lucky.

He didn't want to die – wasn't ready – but that, too, wasn't his choice.

He'd had six months with Kyo. Perhaps that was all the time he was given. He clenched his hand into a fist – grip weak – and uncurled his fingers slowly. Gazed up at the ceiling and then back down. Took a deep breath, winced, and let his hand fall alongside the chair. Iori closed his eyes and leaned his head back.

Kyo was going to come find him but for what? He wasn't going to last.

_You're not dying like a dog. Not like that…not like…_

How was he to stop it? _How?_ There wasn't any way for him to…

_Check yourself into a hospital. They might…_

He didn't want to go back. The first time was enough. But they had fluids and ways to keep him alive and at least he'd have a fighting chance. Here, like this, he was helpless and could only watch himself waste away. What kind of end would that be? What would that do to Kyo?

Kyo was rash. Kyo was volatile when upset. If he died and Kyo saw that…

_It'd turn him against his clan. Against his father. You can't allow that to happen._

It'd destroy Kyo. He couldn't…

Iori opened his eyes. Took his phone out of his pocket. Pulled up one specific name.

He began to type.

_**Nikaido, this is Yagami. I need to speak to you. It's about Kyo.** _


End file.
